


The Shortest Life

by ErtheChilde



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Missing Scene, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:55:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErtheChilde/pseuds/ErtheChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor never intended to survive the loss of his people and planet, but when did things ever go according to plan in his long life? Just the same, he never intended for Rose Tyler to be more than just a temporary companion. Time, as always, seemed to have a different idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright the BBC. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books and graphic novels, are the sole creation of ErtheChilde and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. There may or may not be a curse in your future as well, so be warned. Remembered all things come in threes, good and bad. Plagiarizing is considered bad.
> 
>  **Warning:**  
>  _Spoilers_ : If it existed in any form of Doctor Who canon, whether television, novelization or graphic novel, it’s probably going to be mentioned in here. That includes up to and including 12th/13th/Whatever Doctor Adventures. So if you don’t like being spoiled, maybe save this fic for after you’ve gone through the series, yeah?  
>  _No Beta:_ I am beta-less at the mo’, so any mistakes are my own. I edit as I go, though, so it shouldn’t be too bad.  
>  _Canadian-Writing-British_ : As a Canadian, I’m not all-knowing when it comes to British idioms, sayings or slang. I write what sounds right to my ears and when it doubt, I look things up on the Internet, so I might not always get it right. If I’m way off about something, please drop me a line and I’ll correct it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the single most devastating act in his life, the Doctor wants nothing more than for things to end. But something powerful has a different plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-Compliance: Occurs between the events of _The Day of the Doctor_ and _Rose_

**_The Shortest Life_ **

**_by ErtheChilde_ **

_“I was there! I fought in the war! It wasn’t my fault – I couldn’t save your world! I couldn’t save any of them!”_

 

[ **  
**](http://erthechilde.livejournal.com/19756.html)

The first breath was as excruciating as it was a surprise.

Hauled out of the swirling, pitch black darkness of his mind, he felt as though he was choking on solidified carbon dioxide. Heavy smoke lingered in the air, swamping his windpipe and lungs in a way that made every inhalation feel as though it was slicing him open from the inside. He could taste blood on his tongue, little more than an aftertaste but like the inner recesses of his mouth, sandpaper dry.

He was trapped, somewhere between sleeping and waking, and still mired in the persistent delirium of regeneration sickness. This last renewal had been brought about when his weary cells finally crumbled from exhaustion. Even if he had wanted to slip into a healing coma for the rest of it, he wouldn’t have been able to summon the energy.

He could smell something like burning flesh, but couldn’t identify the source and his eyelids remained weighed down by the phantom ache that suffused his entire body.

He groaned, the vibration of the action sending an excruciating tremor through his damaged oesophagus.

For several seconds, he wondered if his hearing had been damaged somehow: there was an inexplicably vast, echoing quiet enclosing him, transforming the darkness of his mind into a more sinister shadow.

It was only when he realized that he could still hear the various creaks and whirs of his ship that he understood the terrible truth.

He wasn’t deaf. There was just no one left for him to hear.

As memories rushed back to him, he let out an agonized cry of comprehension and his ears heard the guttural sound of a wounded animal.

Gallifrey was gone, and the Time Lords with it.

He had killed his own people – wiped out a lush, thriving collection of minds and effectively destroyed their planet – with the push of a button.

He couldn’t remember the specifics. The destructive action had been so violent he was surprised he was even still able to form coherent thought. His mind provided him with tarnished images, like grotesque snapshots, all centred on a silent, final flash like an exploding star. The rest of the memory was visceral – millions of minds falling silent, forever, in a blast that had reverberated through the universe and obliterated other planets, systems and galaxies.

He could feel the aftershocks rippling deep into the past and far into the future. His lonely mind heard the echo of countless paths to parallel worlds shutting off, imagined entire realities being cannibalized by Reapers who sought to sterilize the continuity gaps that resulted. History and actuality wavered, now free of those who had guided them for so long.

From now on, time would move in constant flux like threads flying in the wind.

His perceptions remained disordered, a consequence of the regeneration energy not having settled yet. Likely the senses that remained to him were trying to compensate for the sudden silence where his people had once been.

He didn’t even attempt to access his Time Sense, knowing the pain of poking that mental abscess would be more unbearable than his physical wounds.

Flashes of reality and dreams flickered on the backs of his eyelids, jumbled together in a way that had no logic:

Images of his ship’s control room, the coral struts now blackened and charred beyond recognition, juxtaposed with that of a pale, dark-haired woman in an old-fashioned dress. She sang to him with the voice of the TARDIS as in the background, orange sky bathed silver trees with light as they were incinerated. The singing turned to the laughter of children, and then to screams as a figure moved in the distance – and animal of some kind, canine features twisted into a wicked snarl. He imagined the floor of the control room, broken and covered with dirt, grime and blood, transforming into a field of roses, their pink and yellow hues a painful contradiction of peace to his war-torn psyche.

The disarray of these images was like a physical brand, and he cried out again in wordless agony.

The TARDIS tried to sooth him. His third heart crooned consolingly, calm and quiet, but even her melody was discordant and agonizingly laboured. Grief over her own loss bled through their connection, a dirge for the extinction of her own species mixing with physical pain.

Even worse than the confounding images was the return of memories. He watched them unfold over and over again, the horrifying deeds he had committed after renouncing his name.

Deep within, the parts of himself he had been forced to forsake for the good of the universe mourned. He saw the systems and planets and galaxies that he had been required to choose between as the forced arbitrator of Fate, deciding which would survive and which would rot as collateral damage. Some had survived for the simple, selfish reason that he had liked them better than others.

And still, one question echoed over and over in his mind.

_Why?_

He hadn’t meant to survive any of this. One of the critical factors in his decision to end the Time War had been the knowledge that he wouldn’t let himself live past the endeavour. After all, what kind of creature chose to be the last of its kind? More to the point, what kind of creature chose to live with blood of its own on its hands?

He had pushed the button, flipped the switch and effectively destroyed Daleks and Gallifreyans alike, then condemned them to an eternity trapped in a Time Lock for the sake of the cosmos. The decision had shattered him even before the action was carried out, and before the trauma of his regeneration had worn off, he had hurled himself into the nearest sun to make the pain stop. It should have been a quick route to the final death.

He just hadn’t counted on the asteroid that got in the way.

He remembered the burning sensation, almost like atmospheric re-entry without a shield, and the wave of force that had thrown him clear across the console room. He recalled a coral strut punching through him, crushing both of his hearts and feeling relieved before the world went dark.

There was no possible way he should have survived and yet he had.

Why had the solace of death been kept from him?

‘My sister will not yet receive you, my Champion,’ a voice at once like swirling sand and dying leaves whispered to him. ‘Death will be your gift another day.’

He was startled, but couldn’t move to show it.

Once again he tried to open his eyes, but to no avail; on the periphery of his vision he pictured a faceless figure in a robe of shifting grey silk.

 _Time_ , he thought, unable to bring the words to his lips. He imagined something soft brushing against his face, a caress that brought with it little relief.

The Eternal whispered his true name – the name he had long since pretended to have forgotten – in soothing tones that mingled with the TARDIS’ song in the background. ‘My Lonely God…I am sorry for this burden that falls to you…’

_It was you. You made sure I survived._

‘Yes. And no.’

 _Why? I was ready to die. I was_ meant _to die after using the Moment._

‘No,’ the Eternal told him, and the silence beyond his chaotic thoughts was momentarily broken by a memory.

_‘– Killing them all…Daleks and Time Lords alike…there will be consequences for you…if you do this, if you kill them all, then that’s the consequence. You live –’_

The words were a whisper of a damaged recollection, too indistinct to completely parse, but their message tore at him. They confirmed the suspicion he had had upon waking to find he had regenerated instead of died.

There was a pause as the TARDIS gave a keening wail of denial and reproach, and the image in his head of the snarling wolf became more focussed.

He couldn’t think of any better punishment for what he had done, but the presence of the Eternal made him suspicious; none of the Menti Celesti were ever without some sort of agenda.

 _Why are you still here, then?_ He wondered. _You’ve done what you came to do – I won’t try to end myself again, if my lot is to wander with my sins. There’s no reason for you to stick around._

‘Can you feel it?’ the Eternal whispered, ignoring the question. ‘The aimlessness of the universe?’

Even as she spoke, he felt the shifting eddies of time, the endless dance of all there was and all there had been and all that ever could be. It seized upon him, insurmountable and crushing in a way he had never experienced before.

‘With no on to safeguard it, its end threatens to become a fixed point.’

He could sense that moment, a timeline thwacking abruptly into place with the same discordant quality of a harp string being played out of tune. It was one he dimly recognized.

_Event Two…there was no definite time before…_

‘Without the Time Lords, this reality hurtles toward destruction that much quicker. And so I reached out and set events in motion, to save one.’

 _One_ , he repeated to himself, stunned at first and then angry when his broken mind realized she was speaking of him. _One?! What good will that do? That is about as useful as an ant against a tidal wave!_

‘It was the only measure I could take,’ Time answered, sounding apologetic for an entity that lacked the ability to produce true emotional inflection. ‘If my interference was discovered, those truly responsible for your War would hasten the universe’s end all the quicker.’

_Truly responsible? There’s no question about who was responsible!_

‘The Time War was something far beyond the reach of this reality. You did what you had to in order to save it, because you knew that the victory of either side would herald the end of everything. You knew what the Daleks intended, you knew what the Council was planning, and so you chose to act as you did. But do you know why?’

_Speaking in riddles is usually my job._

‘Do you know where the High President came by the idea?’

_I would imagine it was something he figured out in his abundant spare time._

‘The plan was not of Ephemeral origin. It came from beyond this plane, from something that sought to feed on the entropy resulting from the universe’s demise.’

_And what is this mysterious “something”?_

‘It exists outside of my domain, beyond this universe and this plane of existence. I fear any attempts on my part to discern its true nature would cause it to accelerate its plans of destruction.’

_I imagine the words ‘this is where you come in’ are about to be flung my way._

‘As an Ephemeral being, you would not register as a threat to them. Not like I would.’

_You’re an Eternal. What does one universe matter to you?_

‘My sisters and I were born in this universe your people called N-Space, not in Eternity as others of our kind. This is our home, which we have long protected from outside threats. I will not have it taken by interlopers.’

_You of all beings should know that everything dies._

Again he felt a soft caress against his face. ‘Yes, my Champion – everything dies. All things come to dust in the end, and that dust will one day be shaped into the foundations of something new. It is the never-ending cycle. But this realm will no longer have that opportunity if it is not protected.’

 _A_ nger rose up within him again and he channelled it directly at the infuriatingly calm Eternal.

_Why should I even care? After what I’ve done…Out of everyone out there – paragons of virtue and knowledge, heroes among my people and other species – there were those better than me that you could have saved for this task!_

‘No, there wasn’t. There was only you.’

_That’s a lie! You have all of existence at your disposal – you could pull them out of Time before I used the Moment! You could save –_

‘I could only save one,’ Time retorted firmly. ‘Any more would risk more damage to the timelines than has already been wrought. And I could only save you…because you are my Champion.’

He felt as though his throat had closed up at that. How many times was that dubious honour going to return to haunt him? To know that it meant he would go on living while others more deserving were consigned to death or an eternity locked in time?

 _Then I relinquish the title as I relinquished my name_ , he thought, the words a bare whisper in his mind _. I_ _will no longer be your Champion. I have done enough. Just…if I cannot die, let me at least let me wander without interference from you or the universe._

There was a long pause. He had the impression that Time was studying closely. In his fevered dream, he imagined the wind flitting through the field of roses and a mournful sigh from the figure beside him.

‘If that is your decision,’ she began, thoughtful, ‘then perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is time for this universe to expire. Perhaps I have adopted the mortal peculiarity of selfishness.’ He felt ice cold hands take his aching face between them. ‘You have served me well, and if you truly wish for the final death, I will release you from the burden placed on you by the Moment. But there is a condition.’

_Of course there is. Because just letting me die would be too easy._

‘My poor Lonely God,’ the Eternal whispered, contrite. ‘If I could, I would release you from my service freely. But she chose you, and even a being as vast as myself is bound by something – and I am bound to her. As are you.’

_“She”? One of your sisters?_

‘No. Both of my siblings hold a different kind of claim upon you than that of a Champion – they can only influence your future.’

 _If I have my way, I won’t_ have _a future._

‘If you are so sure, then let me show you something. That is my condition.’

It was in his heart to decline, but the promise of being able to end it all if he fulfilled this one request was overwhelming.

_Show me, then, if you must._

He felt feather soft touches at his temples and then his mind was deluged with images and emotions. They were mere flickers, never distinct or complete, but somehow they were all strong enough to push back the blackened thoughts of the War.

_‘Run!’_

_He was reaching out, grabbing hold of a small, soft hand, and was surprised at the strength with which it grasped him back._

_‘There’s me,’ a soft, sincere voice said._

_He was surrounded by the musty smell of dust and decay, but despite tasting death on the air his hearts swelled with contentment._

_‘We’ll go down fighting, yeah?’ the same voice queried._

_‘Yeah.’_

_‘Together?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_‘I’m so glad I met you.’_

_‘Me too.’_

_The fate of billions hung in the balance once more, and it came down to a choice between them and a single soul. A choice he had made over and over in the past, and would be doomed to repeat ad infinitum._

_‘If I don’t dare, everyone dies.’_

_‘Do it.’_

_‘You don’t even know what it is. You’d just let me?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_Concrete walls were moving in on him and the smell of his enemy’s burning flesh filled the air._

_‘Feels like there’s no one.’_

_‘Well then, good thing I’m not going anywhere.’_

_A Reaper shrieked in the distance, and he felt the painful echo of countless timelines unravelling and reknitting._

_‘I wasn’t really going to leave you on your own.’_

_‘I know.’_

_‘But between you and me, I haven’t got a plan. No idea. No way out.’_

_‘You’ll think of something.’_

_Surrounded by darkness and swirling golden sparks, he felt the long-forgotten sense of overwhelming joy._

_‘Just this once, everybody lives!’_

_He could feel ashes still on his fingers as he worked, felt the overwhelming knowledge of being alone once more, yet he knew he could get through it because_ she _would live. He had made sure of it._

_‘I want you safe, my Doctor.’_

_Lips brushed against his own, the action stolen and yet perfect all the same._

_‘I just want to tell you, you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And do you know what?’ Burning energy and song filling him up, and yet this time he welcomed it. ‘So was I.’_

Rippling golden light blinded him as he came back to himself and his hearts twisted within him. With every passing second the images he had seen became murkier, hiding them from his sight until only the emotions they had brought remained.

He felt tears dried on his face and he glared in the direction of the Eternal, still unable to see her face.

 _What was that?_ The lure of solace and understanding ebbed away. He felt angry, both at their disappearance and at the Eternal’s audacity. _Is all that supposed to be some kind of reward, some kind of enticement? I don’t deserve that! I don’t deserve anything!_

The idea of being rewarded in any way for committing genocide made his stomach rebel against him and the bile rose in his throat.

‘It is not a reward that I would show you, but the one who will offer you a chance.’

_A chance at what?_

‘Redemption.’

His thoughts ground to a halt.

He knew deep in his hearts that there was no way to make up for the life he had led and the final atrocity he had carried out. There would never be a way to make up for those lives, even if the alternative would have been exponentially worse. Death was the only solution he could see to escape his sins, and yet…

 _That’s not redemption_ , he mused, thinking on the lingering hint of tenderness even as the strange woman’s voice faded from his memory. _That’s trading one type of pain for another._

‘Not all is as it seems,’ Time cautioned. ‘I will not lie and say your hardships are past – along that particular path lies heartache and loss, grief and death and pain…but there will be forgiveness. She will offer you a chance to atone, and so much more.’

_And when I inevitably have to choose between her and the universe?_

Time did not reply, but her silence was more enigmatic than mystified.

His thoughts churned in a chaotic pool of uncertainty and doubt.

The pain of the regeneration and guilt for what he had done continued to eat away at him, the parts of himself that he had betrayed still called for his death. But deep in his core, to the very heart of himself, the part of him which was still afraid of death and still believed that forgiveness was possible before he ended his life for good endured.

And for once, just once, he wanted to be selfish.

His damaged mind and heart wanted to meet this person that could compel an Eternal.

_What do I need to do?_

‘Protect the Valiant Child,’ the Eternal whispered as the dream fading to nothing.

As he opened his eyes, Time had vanished, and with her the last of her cryptic directive.


	2. Chapter One: A Place Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling from his latest regeneration, a shell-shocked Doctor lands in London on Christmas Eve. But all is not as it seemed, and a case of mistaken identity with a Time Agent leads to a rescue by a mysterious blonde woman who insists she knows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Set between the events of _Day of the Doctor_ and _Rose._

**_The Shortest Life  
by ErtheChilde_ **

* * *

_‘I was just passing through. I’m a long way from home.’_

* * *

**ONE**

The TARDIS was meddling again.

That was the only explanation the Doctor could come up with as to how he had ended up back on Earth. 

The ship’s navigational systems were so sufficiently buggered that he hadn’t really expected to make it out of the Mestophelix Galaxy on the first attempt; still, Mutter’s Spiral was far enough away that even if he hadn’t been avoiding it he wouldn’t have tried to get there. 

The fact was that the TARDIS had gone through the effort to purposefully plonk them down in this location. 

Even battered, broken and just as shell-shocked as him, she was back to putting her oar in where it didn’t belong.

‘Nice to see you’re back to your old self,’ he remarked, annoyance contradicting his words.

He received only an unapologetic chime in response.

It wasn’t the most communication they’d had in days, but it was the first time her song wasn’t laced with an underlying wariness; a wariness he didn’t blame her for. Following his delirious suicide attempt after the regeneration, he suspected the betrayal-filled discordance to become a permanent counterpoint to the TARDIS’s melody.

He also suspected she hadn’t brought him to Earth for any imminent universe-saving purpose, but to remind him that he still had roots somewhere. 

However tenuous _that_ connection might be.

He couldn’t help but feel another stab of guilt at the idea. 

He wondered if it wasn’t his love of the Earth that had saved it, in the end. Had something in him suspected before he stole the Moment that he would be cursed to survive the War and so ensured at least one homelike place survived?

The idea was more morbid than comforting.

‘Right then,’ he interrupted that cheerless train of though. He didn’t want to think on the past – or the future. ‘When’ve you landed us this time?’

An attempt to pull up the database of lunar and stellar charts elicited nothing but a swirling Gallireyan error message, and when he tried to engage the view screen for a look at his landing surroundings, he got nothing but scrambled characters for his trouble.

‘Fantastic,’ he spat. ‘First with the useless navigation system, now you’ve bollocksed up the information archive – I’m surprised you’re even bothering to keep up life support – _ow_!’ His fingers throbbed at the sudden jolt of static from the console. ‘Cantankerous old –’

TARDIS hummed a warning at him and he took a reflexive step back from the console.

‘It’s only the truth,’ he maintained sullenly, and glanced at his watch. Then he groaned. ‘Oh, that’s nice – 1999. Haven’t we done this already? San Francisco and the Master ring a bell? It should, considering you had indigestion for ages after that…’

The TARDIS gave a sound suspiciously like a snort.

‘Fine then. End of the twentieth century. Need to pick up some socks, at any rate,’ he grudged, turning on his heel and heading for the door; on his way, he grabbed the leather jacket that was tossed haphazardly on the jump seat and shrugged it on.

This body was his least preening yet, indifferent to the days (weeks?) worth of beard growth and tangled hair that kept falling into his eyes. He hadn’t even looked at himself in the mirror yet, although that was less out of disinterest and more out of fear of what he would see reflected in his own eyes. 

Since waking up he had gravitated towards plain and utilitarian apparel instead of the outlandish garb he had gone for in the past. Now clad in boots, jeans and a dark wool jumper, he wore nothing which would draw attention. 

Now, more than any other time in his life, he strove to avoid notice.

For once, he wanted to travel in ignominy. 

With the Time Lords gone, he was the last being in existence who could keep the timelines safe. It was a duty – his duty – to the universe, and he would dedicate himself to it because there was nothing else left.

There would never again be that simple joy of travelling for the wonder of it. 

Stepping out of the TARDIS, he found himself in an alleyway off a main street. Greying, wet snow had accumulated in some places, and he could hear peripheral traffic. From the faint ring of holiday music in the distance, it wasn’t too difficult to discern where the TARDIS had landed him in. The backstreet was empty right now, but smelled of garbage, wet pavement and a familiar smoggy undercurrent that he would be able to identify anywhere on this particular planet.

London.

He swallowed a curse.

‘Of course you landed us here,’ he groused. ‘Cos it’s not enough we ended up on the one planet I didn’t want to come to – no, you bring me to the exact city I’ve specifically been avoiding.’

And he knew why, too. Over the centuries, the vast majority of people he had travelled with had come from London; the TARDIS purposefully bringing them here was a not so subtle prompt – one he had every intention of ignoring.

There would be no more companions, however much the TARDIS tried to interfere in his life.

There was a pointed click from behind him as the door closed, as if to say, _‘Oh, really?’_

‘Oh no – no, no, _no!’_ he declared, turning on his heel. ‘There’s no way I’m sticking around here, especially not for Christmas of all the –’ He banged on the door, only to find it locked tightly against him. ‘What the hell are you –? I’m not staying! We’re going to go find ourselves a nice dictatorship to overthrow or a weapon’s factory to destroy and _– would – you – open – this – door?!’_

The TARDIS only hummed at him with such reproach that he knew he wouldn’t be getting back inside for the foreseeable future. Botched landing or not, she wasn’t going to let him leave until she was good and ready.

‘Fine!’ he snapped, knowing better than to try to push things when she was in this mood. If he wasn’t careful, she might decide to strand him in this primitive decade longer than just a few hours. Considering this was the time period before nanotechnology and when musical tastes leaned towards girl and boy bands, he couldn’t leave it soon enough. ‘But if you think I’m doing anything silly like carols or mistletoe, you’re more damaged than I thought you were.’

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stalked out of the alley. If anything, at least he could cannibalize a junk yard or a hardware store for parts to fix the temperamental time ship.

He seemed to have landed somewhere in the south side of London, judging from the feel of the décor and the way people spoke. He didn’t stay very long to listen, though, choosing to wander away from the noise and the crowds and the tangible feel of Christmas in the air. If the TARDIS really thought he needed to be around people, she would have set him down in the Lethbridge-Stewarts’ back garden and not left him to his own devices. Since the Brigadier’s residence was a considerable distance away, obviously the ship’s motive wasn’t some convoluted scheme to cheer him up with the company of old friends. 

Possibly she knew he couldn’t handle that right now.

No, it would just be best to wander around until he stumbled into whatever it was she thought he needed to see or find. After his past deeds, what else was there for him but to go back to travelling the universe as he had always done? The best way to get through all of this was just to treat the Time War as a closed chapter and head for the next adventure. So what if his attitude felt more manic than exploratory, or that he couldn’t seem force his mouth to form even the smallest grin?

He had no idea how else to cope.

Before long he found himself standing at the edge of a forlorn looking playground, its demeanour already grey and dreary without the aid of the weather. A rusted swing set sans swings and a tall, precarious looking slide were the only visible apparatus, and along a nearby snow covered court two skeletal basketball hoops loomed out of the ground.

The place was empty but for a trio of adolescent girls across the playground. They were huddled close together, either for secrecy or warmth, and all dressed in clothing that was colourful yet obviously second-hand. The one farthest from him, a skinny black girl with large hoop earrings was surreptitiously passing around a lit cigarette while her friends giggled nervously. 

A girl with wiry brown hair was just taking an experimental puff, when the sound of a car backfiring in the distance caused them all to jump and let out theatrical shrieks. The girls scarpered, darting into three different directions.

Before the Doctor could move, the third of the trio – a small blond – careened right into him, hard enough to make his breathing stutter and her to tumble to the ground.

‘Sorry, mate, didn’ see you,’ she gasped.

‘Got that, yeah,’ he grunted, offering her a hand to help her up. Instead of taking it, though, she staggered to her feet and eyed him distrustfully. He frowned back at her. ‘Doing something you shouldn’t be? Only you’ve got a bit of a guilty look on your face.’

‘Wha’ d’you know abou’ it?’ she fired back, brown eyes crackling defiantly. ‘Ain’t your business, mate, so push off or I’ll scream an’ you’ll be ‘auled off for bein’ a perv.’

Her accent was comically over-emphasized, likely a defence mechanism, but there was an uncertain waver in her voice that told him she wasn’t exactly sure she’d be able to pull off much in the way of daring if he were the type try something.

‘You do that,’ he told her. ‘Then I can ask your mum and dad why you’re out here sneaking fags, trying to look tough instead of inside getting ready for the holidays.’

‘Ain’t got a dad,’ she shot back, trying to make that fact a challenge to his threat.

‘Oh,’ he paused. ‘Me neither.’

‘Yeah, well, if you was finking abou’ snatchin’ me, my mum’ll ‘ave you – an’ she’s not ‘alf scary when she’s pissed off. All the dealers ‘ere’d rather get taken to the nick then ‘ave her on their arse. You try anyfink, she’ll whip ya!’

‘Pass. I don’t do mothers.’

‘Wha’, ‘aven’ got one of ‘em either?’ she challenged.

‘Nope,’ he answered with more ease than he actually felt.

For some reason, that seemed to deflate her anger somewhat.

‘You haven’ got parents?’ she asked. ‘Wha’ abou’ kids? You look like someone’s dad. Or brothers and sisters, or…’ Something in his expression must have answered where his voice could not, because she trailed off and a look of sympathy appeared on her face. ‘So’s that why you’re lurkin’ abou’, watchin’ kids? Ya lonely?’

‘I wasn’t lurking, I was standing,’ he replied, feeling an irrational desire to justify himself to the little waif. Counterintuitive, that, considering the situations a man could get into if seen hanging around a playground with a young girl, especially in this time period. ‘It’s a completely different attitude.’

‘Whatever. S’still lonely.’ She peered at him. ‘’Ow comes you’re not wif your mates, then? S’what I do when I’m lonely.’

Sound advice, if he’d had any friends left. The thought was depressing and he decided he wanted to end the conversation.

‘Yeah, fascinating as all that is, I’ve got things to do, so you can just…go back to playing with dolls or riding your bike or whatever it is kids your age are supposed to do.’

‘I don’ play wif dolls,’ she snapped indignantly. ‘I’m twelve – an’ I don’ got a bike.’

‘Well, maybe if you’re good and stop skulking about trying to act tough, Father Christmas will bring you one.’

She gave him a look of scornful disbelief. ‘I’m way too old to believe in Father Christmas.’

In the days of yore, he might have told her about Santa clones and time loops, or invited her to the TARDIS to visit Father Christmas personally. As it was, he still felt too raw, and her innocent questions had needled at him.

‘Then you’re also old enough to know how stupid it is to be sucking on cancer sticks and talking to strangers,’ he told her acerbically.

Her distrustful brown eyes sparked again, once more with anger, and she snapped, ‘Piss off!’ before turning and stalking away from him. 

He watched as she ascended the stairwell of the housing complex, her stiff-backed gait suggesting a sense of pride in her surroundings that he suspected she didn’t really feel. As the door to one of the sixth floor flats slammed shut, the Doctor turned and walked away, trying not to dwell on the train wreck of a conversation.

Since when did he care how mouthy ape children behaved? Or more to the point, when did he allow nonsense spouted by said mouthy ape children to rattle him enough to lash out?

_‘How many children on Gallifrey?’_ a voice whispered to him from the depths of his mind as he glanced back at the girl’s flat, and he swallowed heavily.

He needed to get off this planet and to somewhere less inhabited, and he needed to do it now – TARDIS’s meddling or not.

Of course, several hours and a whole lot of cursing later, and the Doctor still hadn’t managed to convince the TARDIS to let him in.

If her stubbornness kept up, he was going to have to find somewhere to kip for the simple necessity of it – which meant either heading for the Brigadier’s or finding a hotel.

Grumbling and digging through his coat for the psychic paper in case it came to either option, he paused when his sonic screwdriver made a noise

‘Well, hello, what’ve we got here?’ he murmured, wondering if perhaps the boredom of the past few hours was about to be alleviated. Bringing it out, he blinked as the device registered a rather puzzling spike in temporal energy within the city limits. ‘To business, then.’

He quickly made his way to the high street, dodging passers-by doing their Christmas shopping and bike messengers whizzing by. He didn’t stop to apologize to those he bumped into, not in the mood for any more interactions that might turn out the way his exchange with the little blond ape.

Without the TARDIS computers he couldn’t accurately pinpoint what the anomaly was or what had caused it, but the sonic would allow him to investigate where it had originated.

The device was programmed to only pick up temporal anomalies that were far above the norm – ‘A bit of an insurance policy back in the days of avoiding other Time Lords,’ he muttered with grim irony – but ignored the smaller blips made by inferior time-travelling species and meddling humans like the Time Agency. If something as large or as powerful as a TARDIS were to materialize in an area, however, the sonic would pick that up.

That being said, it definitely shouldn’t be happening right now. 

His mind worked furiously as he followed the sonic’s direction and turned onto a primary road headed toward the Thames. 

Large transmat technologies were anachronistic at this point in the timeline, and with no more TARDISes in the universe – his hearts clenched reflexively at that thought – it would take some investigating to see exactly what alien threat had decided to land on Earth this time. His own TARDIS signature wouldn’t come up in a general scan, and none of his previous incarnations had ever been to London at Christmas in 1999 before (that he was aware of). 

The readings from the sonic seemed to spike after he passed Vauxhall Cross, and for a moment he thought he might be about to have another bumbling encounter with MI6 before he was led over the bridge.

That, really, was a relief, considering his interactions with that particular branch of government tended to be worse than most. Especially since a certain umbrella-wielding micromanager took over the running of things in this time period.

Crossing the bridge, the Doctor was surprised at how empty it was; there was only one pedestrian ambling away in the distance, and even the traffic seemed to be at an uncharacteristic lull. 

He made it to the darkening promenade on the other side, before he realized the energy signature appeared to be lessening. Spinning on his heel in search of it, he found that it seemed to be returning the way it had come.

‘Which is impossible, considering there was no one else walking across the bridge when I was,’ he mused out loud, glancing out across the dark water suspiciously. In the distance, he could see the dark outline of the as-yet-unfinished London Eye but no indications of the water having been disturbed.

There were any number of alien races that were marine based or even amphibious, but few who had time travel technology and even fewer that he was in the mood to deal with right now. Most of them were bottom feeders with delusions of grandeur, parasites that would show up in droves now that the Time Lords weren’t around to keep them at bay – but dangerous nonetheless.

He headed back, trying to narrow down the most likely suspect and hoping it wasn’t something he hadn’t met yet.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the woman in front of him until he had bumped straight into her.

They both staggered, and he got the impression of dark hair and dark eyes before she spoke.

‘Sorry, man, I’m a total klutz.’

The low, dusky American accent was a departure from the local vernacular, he noticed as he reflexively reached out to steady her. ‘S’alright – no harm done –’

His words died in his throat at the sudden eddying sensation in his veins and the way his vision blurred. He squinted at the woman as his immune system attempted to analyse and counteract whatever foreign substance had just been introduced to it.

There was an acrid, sickly sweet aftertaste like pears in his mouth, and realization set in.

‘Ah. Time-Release Tri-Species Tranquilization Dart. Clever.’

‘Sexy and smart,’ she purred as he fell to his knees, control over motor function disappearing. ‘You and I are going to have _so_ much fun together.’

The world went dark.

· ΘΣ ·

When he came to, the Doctor was sitting in a windowless room with Spartan furnishings and very little light. His wrists were completely immobilized behind him by some kind of cuff; he could hear but not feel the frequent shocks of electricity coming from the band.

Grimacing at his benumbed limbs, he deduced that he was being held with energy binding technology, meant to temporarily incapacitate the nerves. Also, his coat and the sonic were missing.

‘Oh, good, you’re finally awake,’ the throaty female voice said behind him. ‘I was worried you were going to sleep right through our little get-together. Glad you didn’t.’

The woman came around in front of him. 

She was darkly beautiful, with full lips and almond shaped eyes that sized him up with a soldier’s calculation and a whore’s brazenness. Although she was dressed to fit in with the time period – jeans and a tank top, denim jacket, steel-toed boots and smoky make-up – the archaic sword and pocket watch attached to her clothes suggested she was anything but a nineties woman.

As if the technology that restrained him hadn’t given her away, there were other clues that she was out of time. The tattoo on her right bicep might have been seen as no more than body modification from someone from this era, but he was familiar enough with fiftieth century epidermal identification methods. The woman had at once point been part of an intergalactic naval crew – before being recruited to the Time Agency, if the wrist-strap hidden beneath her contemporary costume bracelets was any indicator.

‘Can I get you anything before we start?’ she asked coyly.

‘Now that you mention it, it’s a bit nippy. Haven’t seen my coat, have you?’                   

‘Oh, I’ve seen it,’ she grinned at him. ‘And I got a feeling it’ll take me a while to see all of it. You’re going to have to tell me how you make the pockets fit all that stuff in there. Looks useful.’

‘Can be. Not that your brain could possibly understand. Not unless you can think in more than three dimensions.’

‘Is that an alien equivalent of “I’ll never tell”?’ she asked, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed and a challenging smile on her face.

‘Who says I’m alien?’

‘Oh, don’t play coy, babe, it doesn’t fit those pretty blue eyes,’ she drawled. ‘You think I didn’t scan you the minute I locked on to you? You give off the weirdest temporal signature I’ve ever seen and you’re definitely not human. Not with that binary vascular system and who knows what else you’ve got two of. Every species I know with biological systems like that are from outside this galaxy. And a lot bigger and usually quadrupeds. So if you can fit all that into a human looking package, your compression field is either excellent…or you’re not from around here.’ Her gaze hardened. ‘What are you?’

‘I’m…complicated.’

‘Mm, I’ll bet.’

He sighed at the unimpressed note to her voice and decided to go with the old interrogation standby of evasions and half-truths.

‘Bit of a traveller, me,’ he said easily. ‘Heard they had excellent chips on this planet and thought I’d look into it. Don’t have anything like potatoes where I’m from – Apalapucia.’ He seized upon the first time-travelling, binary vascular species he could think of. ‘Lovely place. ‘Bout two billion light-years away from here. A little too clean for my tastes, but then I always was the black sheep of the family.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘How would you know? Bet you never even heard of it before now.’

She tapped her head temple, where he could just now see the imprint of a kind of shape beneath her skin. 

‘Truth assessor implant. To deal with liars and telepaths that try to hide things from me. Like the fact you are definitely not from Apalapucia.’

‘Well done,’ he told her jauntily. ‘But you wouldn’t believe whatever I told you I was even with your little implant. I propose we move to the point in the conversation where you tell me why you’ve got me tied to a chair, cos I’m beginning to worry I’ve just run into another randy Time Agent with a bondage fetish.’

‘Who says you haven’t?’ she countered, and to her credit her eyes only widened a little at the revelation that he knew who she was and who she worked for.

‘Well, go on then – impress me,’ he said, and if his arms had been free he would have crossed them.

‘I’ll make this really easy so you can keep the lies to a minimum. I want the location of your contact. You help me get him, I’ll send you back to your place and time with no more than a slap on the wrist. Maybe a bit of a memory wipe.’

He had no idea what she was talking about, which suggested a case of mistaken identity. That was always fun and usually gave him an idea of what kind of situation he had fallen into. Thus, he decided to play along for a bit.

‘Which one?’ he asked cheerfully.

‘What?’

‘Which contact? Been travelling for hundreds of years, me. Met a lot of people. How am I supposed to know who you’re looking for?’

‘Don’t waste my time being cute. You know who I’m talking about.’

‘I really don’t,’ he answered. ‘If you let me go, we can have a quick chat like civilized life forms, though, and I could probably point you in the right direction.’

‘Until I know what you are, you’re not getting out of that chair,’ she told him as she moved behind him, before leaning down and murmuring softly into his ear, ‘And if you decide not to help, I get to persuade you until there’s nothing left to persuade.’

There was an ominous promise in her voice.

‘Bit sinister for the Time Agency,’ he remarked casually.

‘To bag this particular piece of crap we’re authorized to do whatever’s necessary.’

‘Including torture?’

‘And beyond.’

‘Must be wanted for some serious crimes, then,’ he mused. ‘Last time I dealt with you lot it was over an intergalactic war criminal. Even he got a trial. So either this is a personal thing and off the books for you, or he was once one of you and you need to stop him before he does something that rips apart the fabric of reality.’ He considered her. ‘Or both.’

There was a crackling sound from behind him and the smell of ions in the air. Likely it was a stunner of some sort. ‘I’m going to ask you one last time. Politely. And then I’m going to get creative.’

‘Hopefully more creative than this set-up,’ he complained. ‘Looks like you ripped off a cheap mob flick before –’ There was a loud buzz and waves of pain cascaded over him, radiating throughout his nervous system. It took him several seconds to recover his breath. ‘Oh, well done. I’m surprised you got the voltage right on the first try. Most apes wouldn’t straight off.’

‘Binary vascular system? You can take it. Now tell me what I want to know or we go higher.’

‘Well, if you feel like interrogating a corpse…Have at it.’

‘I don’t know why you’re protecting him! He’d sell his own mother twice if he could.’

‘I’ll say it again – haven’t the foggiest who you’re –’

His words cut off with a strangled cry as another jolt of electricity rippled through him. 

It seemed he’d been landed with yet another trigger-happy human that wasn’t willing to listen to reason. With his wrists completely immobilized, picking the cuffs would be impossible. Telepathic suggestion was out as well, given that the Agency trained their operative against compulsion – and as strong a telepath as he was, he didn’t want to leave the woman a vegetable unless he absolutely had to.

‘Last chance,’ the woman said. ‘Tell me where you’re meeting him or I’ll –’

But what she would do he wouldn’t find out, because there was a sudden metallic clang and an exhalation, and the woman was suddenly lying on the concrete floor by his chair, a bright red bruise across her temple.

‘There you go, getting yourself into scrapes again,’ someone behind him chuckled. ‘Honestly, I make a career out of saving your arse.’

The Doctor’s head turned as far as it could in response to this new development, and he watched with raised eyebrows as another young woman strode into the room with all the swagger of a hero.

Something like familiarity tugged at the back of his mind, but it was too fleeting for him to even give a name. 

Despite the roughness of her appearance, she was fit in a way half the universe would have considered attractive. Symmetrical features, fair complexion and young; perhaps in her twenties.  Even as he thought it, his mind supplied him with an epithet relevant to this time period: English Rose.

The image, however, was somewhat ruined by the fact she was sopping wet and carrying a fire extinguisher – the same one she had used to knock out his interrogator. 

‘Wet t-shirt contest?’ he suggested, flicking his eyes over her sodden form. She was smiling at him in a way that was both wolfish and tentative.

‘Took a dip in the Thames.’

‘Ah. Bad idea, this time of year. Never know what you’ll find down there.’

As she moved closer, he felt the hair follicles on the back of his neck prickle in reaction. Even with his crippled temporal eye, he could see that Time was doing strange things around the woman – stranger than the usual fluctuations one might see in a habitual time traveller. 

‘I found this fire extinguisher, so I think it worked out well for both of us.’

‘Point taken,’ he smirked, and then inquired, ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Oh, that’s nice! No, “thanks for knocking out the madwoman”, just down to business, is it?’

‘For all I know you could be just as mad.’

‘Could be.’

She spoke with the precise enunciation of someone who had spent years trying to rid herself of an accent. Likely to human ears she had succeeded, but he could hear the very faint traces of Estuary labiodental fricatives in her wording.

She bent to examine his cuffs and he studied her suspiciously. 

‘Apparently you know me,’ he stated, giving her an opening to fill him in.

She didn’t give it.

‘Brilliant deduction, Doctor,’ she answered dryly as she crossed the room and picked up his coat from where it rested in the corner. ‘Truly impressive, you are.’ 

She began to rummage around in the pockets haphazardly.

‘Oi! What’re you –?’

His question cut off as she pulled out the sonic screwdriver and held it up triumphantly. Luckily the Time Agent seemed to have put it back in the dimensionally transcendental pockets.

‘I do know what I’m doing, you know.’

‘I’d like to know how,’ he muttered as he continued to study her. ‘You can’t be from my future – I’ve sworn off companions. You must be from my past.’

‘Well…yes and no. It’s a bit…timey-wimey.’

‘“Timey-wimey”?’ he repeated in disgust. ‘What child came up with that?’

She shot him an amused smirk. ‘You really want to know?’

Future, then. Unless this was another situation like with Mel…

Rassilon he hoped not.

‘I must go senile in my old age – why else would I take on a companion again?’

It was the only logical explanation. She recognized his face, but she had appeared surprised to see it. Likely she hadn’t seen it in a while, or perhaps she had only seen it for a short time. Maybe by the time they met, he had worn this new set of bones out and was about to regenerate. Perhaps she had even stayed with him through it.

He almost liked her for that, which was odd considering he had just met her. Rather than parse that bit of logic, he considered his surroundings. ‘Where are we?’

‘A small office building near Battersea. Might’ve been a bank at some point, seeing as the walls are all concrete. I don’t think she brought you here to wine and dine you.’

‘And just how’d you find me?’

‘TARDIS key,’ she replied cheerfully, indicating a chain on her neck. Even without touching it he could sense it was the genuine article. ‘Seems to be reacting to the proximity of your key. Never knew it could do that.

‘It doesn’t,’ the Doctor told her blankly. ‘It’s not meant to find _me_ , it’s meant to find the _TARDIS_.’

‘Well, she’s clever,’ the woman got behind him, screwdriver clutched in hand. ‘Maybe she knew I needed help finding you. Too bad I didn’t know about that feature before, it would’ve really come in handy…’

She pointed the sonic at his wrists and he jerked. ‘Hang on, what d’you think you’re doing with that?’

‘What’s it look like? Setting 352-B,’ she retorted, ‘Unlocks handcuffs.’

‘Regular ones,’ he groused, intrigued that she even knew how to use the sonic. He couldn’t recall trusting more than a few companions with it. ‘Try setting 4126-E first – disables energy binding technology.’

‘One day I’m going to make you write up a manual for this thing,’ she muttered; a few seconds of whirring noise and the cuffs fell to the floor.

The Doctor stood up, massaging his wrists while the strange blond dealt with the unconscious woman. With surprising ease, she relieved the Time Agent of her Vortex Manipulator, manoeuvred her into the chair he had just occupied and transferred the cuffs to her.

When she straightened up, the Doctor had his jacket back on, and for a moment he imagined she was looking at him with something akin to wistfulness.

‘What?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly. ‘It’s just…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m really not used to you having that much hair,’ she giggled. 

His hands twitched towards the unkempt mess that hadn’t bothered him at all since he regenerated. For some reason he felt the inexplicable urge to shave it all off right away.

The impulse was irrational enough that he managed to stop himself before he actually completed the movement, and instead crossed his arms defensively and shot her an unimpressed look

‘Oh, no, I’m not – I mean, it looked good before, but this works for you too,’ she hurried to say, her cheeks darkening slightly. ‘Very, er…anyhow.’ She cleared her throat and eyed the Time Agent resolutely. ‘Best get on with it, yeah?’

He let the subject drop.

‘Got her secured properly, then?’

‘Should do,’ she told him, her smile becoming just a little sad. ‘Been at this kind of thing for years.’

‘“Years”?’ He looked her over again, wondering if his estimate of her age wasn’t a bit off. ‘Just how old are you?’

‘Rude as ever, asking a lady her age,’ she teased, then sobered. ‘I wouldn’t be able to tell you even if I could. Lost track of it a bit over the years. You know what it’s like in the TARDIS.’ When he opened his mouth to demand more information, she cut him off, ‘And _no_ , I can’t tell you when I’m from because that’d cause a paradox – and _yeah_ , I know about them. Travelled enough with you to learn a bit.’

‘If you know about potentially universe ending paradoxes, why are you even here?’ he challenged. ‘Where’s your version of me, for that matter? And while we’re on the topic of rude, you haven’t even introduced yourself.’

‘Stop fishing, Doctor,’ she warned him. ‘You’re nowhere near enough to bump into yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Not really,’ he told her. ‘Run into meself a few times before. Nothing a bit of memory repression won’t fix. Companions wandering around on their own, though, that’s a whole other story.’

‘Yeah, but the less you know, the less you have to forget – and don’t you go pretending you’re not just as bad at following Rule Number One as any of your companions!’ she chided. She then paused for a moment to consider, and then offered, ‘You can call me Val.’

‘”Val”,’ he repeated with flat scepticism. ‘That’s not your name.’

‘It’s all I can give you,’ she insisted, and before he could try to press any more information out of her, she went on, ‘There’s nothing I’d like more than to avoid a paradox, Doctor, but there’s something I need help with, and in this time period…you’re my best bet.’

He raised an eyebrow, but remained quiet, waiting for her to go on.

She looked like she was weighing exactly what she wanted to say to him, before finally nodding to herself, and speaking again.

‘I’m sort of looking for someone that’s…a bit hard to get a trace on. I’ve got specialized equipment to help me, but when I got here, it was stolen.’

‘Stolen?’ he repeated, then looked her over again. ‘You don’t look like the sort to let a thief pull one over on you.’

‘Trust me, I’m not,’ she grimaced. ‘He had some kind of…stasis field technology. I don’t know, one minute I was mobile, the next I’m paralyzed and he’s lifting any tech off me that looks remotely impressive. He tried to take the TARDIS key too, when he saw the temporal reading it gave off, but it burned him when he tried.’

‘Stasis bombs don’t generally last very long,’ he pointed out. ‘’Bout ten minutes, at the most complex. Did you try to go after him?’

Her expression turned grim. ‘Couldn’t. He must’ve decided he didn’t want me coming after him, cos next thing I know he’s hefting me over his shoulder and I’m taking a nice dip in the river. I don’t want to think what would’ve happened if the stasis didn’t wear off when it did.’

‘Bit extreme for a simple thief.’

‘I think someone was following him, or looking for him, or something,’ “Val” agreed. ‘Anyway, he legged it and…er, a few of those things he went off with are valuable. And important.’

‘What, exactly, did he take?’

‘Something I can’t tell you about. All you need to know is he took it, and I need it back.’

‘It’s dangerous, then?’

‘Dangerous but necessary. Save-the-universe necessary,’ she assured him. ‘And the minute it does what it was supposed to, we’re taking it apart so no one can ever use it again.’

She held his gaze for a long moment, and he got the sense it was important to her that he know she was being honest. He was wary, but at the same time intrigued. Jumping into situations without knowing all of the information wasn’t far from his norm, but there was something about this woman that made him want to help her. Perhaps something from a different life was bleeding through, perhaps she was telling the truth…

Well, if she wasn’t, he would find out. She’d made a concerted effort not to give away more than she needed to, which he approved of, but there were ways of telling without saying a word, and she had already told him quite a bit without meaning to.

He would suss out for himself just what the situation was and whether it was imperative that he know nothing about it as she seemed to think it was.

He nodded, slowly and deliberately in a way that made her posture relax. Obviously, she had been expecting him to be difficult about it.

If that weren’t a sign she knew him well…

‘Well, you’ve got me curious,’ he said, feigning cheer that he didn’t actually feel. ‘Guess it’s time to save the world again, then?’

 ‘Right. Good…Got a plan for this, or are we just going to wing it as usual?’ she asked conversationally, almost eagerly.

‘I get the idea she’ll be of use to us,’ he nodded at the still unconscious Time Agent. 

At the reminder of her presence, Val adopted an unimpressed grimace. ‘Not really keen on working with someone who was about to barbecue your insides.’

‘Think I’m strong enough to deal with a little electric shock,’ he complained. ‘Besides, she’s looking for someone. Wouldn’t surprise me if it’s the same yob who mugged you.’

‘Bit too coincidental,’ Val allowed. ‘Most people around this century would have thought the – would have thought my tech was a toy.’

‘So we convince her she’s better off assisting us, track down your mystery device, send our futuristic friends off to wherever they’re supposed to be, everybody goes on with their life.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Well, after you tell me when we supposedly met in the past, because I’m sure I’d’ve remembered you,’ he told her, attempting to disarm her with charm he hadn’t been forced to call upon recently. 

Those charismatic incarnations were a long way off, but he needed her thinking that he was still going to try to get answers from her. If she knew him like she said she did, she would be suspicious if he stopped asking altogether.

For a moment something like pain flickered in her features, but it was quickly hidden behind an impish grin. ‘Tell you what – buy me a drink, and I’ll think about it.’

The blatant invitation in her voice suggested that she was used to engaging in this kind of repartee with him, supporting his suspicion that he might have known her in flirtatious his eighth self; after all, he didn’t remember a lot of that life. However, the challenge in her gaze as she waited for his response, suggested she knew he would never take up that offer now.

No matter the fact he strangely, and rather surprisingly, found himself tempted.

Luckily, his resolve wouldn’t be tested, as a voice broke through the laden silence.

‘If y’all are going at it, could you at least move to the other side of the room so I can watch?’ 


	3. Chapter Two: Missed Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joined by a future companion that he is not sure he trusts, and a Time Agent he _definitely_ doesn’t trust, the Doctor sets out to stop temporal terrorists from destroying the Earth’s timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Set between the events of _Day of the Doctor_ and _Rose._

**_The Shortest Life  
by ErtheChilde_ **

* * *

_‘Underneath you, there’s a war going on.’_

* * *

**TWO**

At the interruption, Val took a step forward, positioning herself between the Doctor and the Time Agent. Her posture wasn’t unlike a mother wolf defending her pup, an image he might have been more indignant about if it wasn’t contributing to a troubling suspicion.

More an idea, really, and one that had been forming since she waltzed into the nondescript room with her half-truths and devil-may-care swagger.

‘How long have you been awake?’ Val asked coolly. 

‘Since “rude as ever”,’ the woman on the chair retorted. ‘You didn’t _actually_ hit me that hard.’

‘I wasn’t _actually_ aiming for brain damage. Time Agent.’

‘Aw, doll, you know who I am but I’ve got no idea who you are,’ the Doctor’s former interrogator leered. ‘Wanna change that?’

‘Maybe after I’ve had inoculations for some of the STIs you’ve got flying around the fifty-first century.’

‘Forty-ninth.’

‘My mistake.’

The agent was looking at Val like she couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed or impressed; it was a sentiment he shared. Both those emotions took a back seat, however, to the information that simple exchange had provided him with.

Apparently he and Val had had – or would have – dealings with the Time Agency. Possibly in the fifty-first century. That knowledge was obviously not integral to maintaining the timeline, or she wouldn’t have mentioned it. He had noticed how careful she was being in giving him too much information, despite his insistences he would forget, and with her admitted understanding of time paradoxes…

He had half a mind to track down whatever version of himself she knew and demand what he’d done to this woman.

If he was even around to ask. He suspected he might not be, and it was this dark unease that had begun to form when he watched her clinical neutralization and confinement of the Time Agent.

She had some kind of combat training in addition to her alleged time-travel knowledge which she wouldn’t have gained from him. Possibly she could have had it from before he met her (would meet her?), but he doubted it. There was a high probability he was looking at a companion that had moved on from travelling with him. He’d even hazard a guess that she was working for UNIT, except they usually provided back-up.

Val was very clearly alone, and that was a warning sign.

As much as a part of him wanted to trust her – which was suspicious in itself considering at the moment he knew and trusted no one – it wasn’t unheard of for a former companion to become a threat after leaving him. Or even while travelling with him.

He well remembered Turlough. 

Now wasn’t the time to analyse his misgivings about the future, though, and instead he addressed the stranger.

‘Got a name we can use? Or should we just call you ‘Agent’?’

‘Gertrude Farrell,’ the woman answered after a calculating glance. ‘And you two? The Doctor and “Val”, was it? Who are you?’

A charming, yet faintly canine smirk broke out on Val’s face. ‘The stuff of legends.’

Her words rang like yet an inside joke that he was not privy to, yet suspicions over her identity and motives aside, he couldn’t help the temptation to grin as well.

There was just _something_ about her…

‘Yeah, that’s great, but it doesn’t help me trust you any,’ Gertrude Farrell said dryly. ‘Neither does keeping me tied to a chair. And I’ll have my wrist strap back too, thanks.’

‘Tell us who you’re after and maybe we’ll talk,’ Val countered. ‘Considering you attacked the Doctor, we’ve got less incentive to trust you just yet.’

‘By now your little lie detector should’ve told you we’re not teamed up with whoever you’re looking for,’ the Doctor pointed out. ‘You never did answer about why you’re after him.’

‘From the sound of it, blondie here’s already run into him,’ Gertrude said with a cold smile. ‘Ferrety looking bastard with a really pretentious way of talking?’

‘That was him,’ Val confirmed.

‘Malcolm Lowell,’ Gertrude explained. ‘He used to be one of us. Or, well, will be one of us, in my time stream. He’s from the Agency’s future.’

‘Meaning he’s likely got information on every operative who’s ever worked for you lot,’ the Doctor scoffed, and added under his breath, ‘Neanderthals and their Vortex Manipulators…’

‘Be nice,’ Val chided absently.

‘He knows the Archives well enough to have profiles on everyone, yeah,’ Gertrude verified, ignoring the jibe. ‘He’s been dodging us for five standard years, jumping timelines whenever there’s even a hint of Agency presence. That’s why everything is off the books now and why we’ve been authorized to neutralize him using any means necessary and to keep it quiet.’ 

‘Including torturing innocent bystanders, yeah?’ Val reproached.

Gertrude had the decency to sound somewhat apologetic. ‘Your friend was using anachronistic, alien technology to track a temporal anomaly. On top of that, his bio- and temporal signatures are so far from the contemporary period that it was a logical assumption to make.’

‘Well, you know what they say about assuming,’ the Doctor quipped lightly.

‘Look, I feel bad about it, but I had to make sure. It’s a small price to pay to keep the timelines safe.’

It was a sentiment the Doctor could understand, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy having his insides zapped for the sake of protecting continuity. Val made a face as well, but appeared willing to cede the point, because instead of continuing on that thread, she asked, ‘So what’s he doing here, of all places?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. His MO for the longest time was just selling future technology to developing companies and worlds a few years of their actual invention date. It caused some minor headaches in the early days, little tweaks to the timeline, but nothing really paradoxical.’ 

‘Let me guess – it didn’t stay that way?’

‘He started stepping up his game a few years back – began dealing in ideas and tech that completely changed the face of various worlds. Not only did it cause a ton of mayhem and an increase in warfare throughout certain quadrants, but in some cases entire timelines got destroyed. We’ve had Agents flitting back and forth through time like crazy trying to fix the weak points. Mostly he sticks to distant worlds, far from human historical events. Except now…well, he’s here.’

‘In a time period when even the smallest change can unmake everything,’ the Doctor finished. The news of this Lowell character’s deeds, his audacity at mucking about with the timelines the Doctor was meant to protect, angered him. ‘You think there’s someone he’s meeting with?’

‘Obviously. He’s got to sell his merchandise to someone for anything to happen.’

‘He probably cloaked himself and any of the tech on him the minute he showed up,’ Val put in.

‘Including whatever you’re trying to get back,’ Gertrude agreed. ‘I haven’t had any luck lately. I’ve been in 1999 for three weeks now, jumping back and forth trying to scan news of events for a sign of where he might be. But as far as I can figure, there’s literally _nothing_ going on right now. And then I got an indication of alien technology and…the rest you know.’

‘So we’ve got a rogue ex-Time Agent running about with a super-secret gadget I apparently can’t know about, and – hang on, you never did say what exactly your boy was trying to sell.’

‘We’re not completely sure, since every operative that’s come close to catching him has been neutralized. Including my partner.’ Gertrude’s expression darkened at that. ‘But the last location before he came here was the Stirling Quadrant – around the time localized CETP generators were in vogue.’

A chill crept up the Doctor’s spine. ‘And you think that’s what he’s got?’

‘Maybe not an actual device, but the plans for one.’

‘One’s as bad as the other,’ the Doctor said darkly. ‘Technology like that won’t just alter history – it’ll destroy it and every part of the universe that’s been touched by it.’

There was a momentary pause, and then Val cleared her throat. ‘For those of us that don’t speak _Popular Mechanics for Time Travellers,_ what’s a CET?’

‘CETP,’ the Doctor corrected, filing away the reference to the twentieth century in his growing mental dossier on the woman. It appeared she was contemporary to this period, then. ‘Stands for ‘Continuous Electromagnetic Tectonic Pulse’.’

‘And that’s what when it’s at home?’

‘A big technology-off switch,’ Gertrude supplied. ‘Shuts off all higher electrical function and basically turns off the laws of physics within a planet’s atmosphere.’

‘Around the twenty-sixth century a particularly technology averse group of humans from the Stirling Quadrant figured out a way to cancel out all industrial development on their planet,’ the Doctor elaborated. ‘They built devices – localized CETP generators – which they buried down deep in a prospective planet’s core during the terraforming process and then activated.’

‘They were a huge hit with all the back-to-the-land societies,’ Gertrude continued. ‘The generators could send people back to simpler times. No computers, no indoor heating, no functional explosives – just good old work of human hands. Nothing wrong with that, of course, until some genius weaponized it.’

‘It’s why it was outlawed ‘bout a century later – not before it caused a dozen different genocides, though,’ the Doctor finished with a scowl. ‘Not difficult to wipe out your enemies if you cut off every bit of machinery they depend on.’ He crossed his arms. ‘What I’d like to know is how this Lowell character found someone in _this_ time willing to buy it. S’future technology. No one from now should know about it, let alone be in the market.’

‘I don’t think his contact is from this time,’ Val said thoughtfully. ‘Before he stole the – before he stole from me, he stuck around to gloat a bit. He said something about mistaking me for his contact because my temporal signature’s not from this time.’

‘His contact could just be a middleman,’ Gertrude realized. ‘Another time traveller that somehow has stake in this time period. If Lowell were to sell the device schematics to his contact, that’s who would find a buyer in this century. Easy job, no clean up once the transaction’s over. That’s got Lowell written all over it.’

‘There are some materials a CETP generator needs that don’t exist yet,’ the Doctor pointed out, ‘meaning there’d have to be someone funding research into the synthesis of those materials.’

‘So if we find out who’d be interested and who might have the technology now, maybe we can find out who the middleman is. That’s not a lot to go on.’

‘It’s better than calcium decay and pig technology.’

Val’s remark earned confused looks from both Gertrude and the Doctor. 

‘Any point in asking you to elaborate?’ he attempted.

‘Not a chance,’ she grinned, doing that thing with her tongue and the corner of her mouth that made him falter a second or two.

‘I can come back when you two are done,’ Gertrude suggested.

‘It takes three days for a particularly adept human to build a CETP generator,’ he went on quickly. ‘That’s with all the right parts. With rudimentary materials and accurate plans, I’d day…about a week before it’d be functional. Crude, but could still cause damage.’

‘Anything interesting supposed to happen around here within the next year?’ Gertrude asked.

‘Nothing that really matters to history,’ he mused, thinking up whatever relevant information pertained to the situation. ‘Vladimir Putin is elected President of Russia, which could possibly be affected by lack of technology – hm, first female president of Finland, though a CETP wouldn’t be much use in that case – France defeats Italy in the World cup, which isn’t exactly vital, but I can see a rabid football fan –’

‘Y2K!’

Both the Doctor and Gertrude went silent at Val’s outburst, uncomprehending.

‘What now?’ the Time Agent asked.

 ‘The year 2000?’ Val prompted. ‘In a few days it’ll be coming up on the millennium. And there was that huge Y2K conspiracy. You know, the big to-do about how computers would fail, airplanes were going to fall from the sky and the world would end at midnight?’

‘That’s just dumb,’ Gertrude remarked. ‘Agency expeditions indicate it ends in the year 5 billion.’

Val shook her head. ‘I remember 1999. There were all those nutters going on about how everything was going to stop at New Years. People quitting their jobs and throwing end-of-the-world parties left and right.’

‘They must have felt stupid when it didn’t end.’

‘Not half as stupid as all those sects out there who were absolutely sure they were getting a one-way ticket to Paradise come Doomsday,’ the Doctor pointed out, catching on to what Val was implying. ‘A lot of those were privately funded, too. Real wealthy. They’d’ve taken a blow to the coffers when the planet kept spinning, and then spent decades dealing with their credibility mucked up. The _really_ well-off ones might even hang on a few centuries, same way the Freemasons did.’

‘They might have future supporters who decided to go back and ensure their predictions about the end of the world came true,’ Gertrude realized, eyes widening as she caught on as well. 

‘It’d be a suicide mission for them, disrupting their own timeline like that. But I guess in their eyes, they’d be doing their duty,’ Val finished. 

‘Not that any of their kind would get to enjoy it,’ the Doctor pointed out. ‘I bet your friend Lowell hasn’t explained the concept of paradoxes to his buyer.’

‘Speaking of, how’s that work for him?’ Val wanted to know. ‘If Lowell sells this anti-technology thing to someone and it gets built here, they flip the switch and the Earth goes back to the Stone Age. Doesn’t that mean every human in space and time beyond a certain point would just...disappear?’

‘He’s insane enough not to care, I think.’

‘Unless he’s found or created a paradox machine to protect himself from any temporal consequences of his business,’ the Doctor mused darkly. ‘Might be using a modified form of a Monan occlusion field.’

He didn’t explain what that was, and although Val looked like she wanted to ask about it, she stayed on task. ‘So how are we supposed to find him?’

‘By “we”, y’all mean the three of us, right?’ Gertrude demanded. ‘As in, you’re gonna let me out of these cuffs sometime soon?’

‘Don’t pretend you haven’t had your wrists free since you woke up,’ the Doctor told her, making Val glance up with a start. ‘Cuffs like those are built with isomorphic fail safes to ensure their owner doesn’t end up in exactly this kind of situation.’

‘Then you know I could’ve taken you both out if I needed to but didn’t,’ the Time Agent said, unrepentant. She stood, folding her loosened arms in front of her. ‘I figure we’re all on the same side, anyway. So how’s about instead of standing around glaring at each other we figure out how to find Lowell?’

‘That depends on if you think you can stick to using your brain instead of your stun gun for a bit,’ Val told her glacially.

Gertrude held up her recently freed hands in a defensive gesture. ‘Hey, I get it. You’re ticked I stunned your partner, and I’m sorry, but it was totally a mistaken identity thing. How about we save the world first and then you and me can do the chick-fight thing?’

Val considered her, and then nodded. 

‘But you’re not getting the Vortex Manipulator back –’ when Gertrude opened her mouth to protest, she went on, ‘– not ‘til we’ve got this mess sorted.’

‘And how do you expect to do that? Trying to follow someone who can hop through time without our own device to hop through time? Not going to work.’

‘Leave that to me,’ the Doctor spoke up. ‘Need to figure out where he’ll be before we can follow him, anyhow.’

‘But _how_? We don’t even know when this thing is going to go down.’

‘I think it’s safe to say it’s happening tonight, or I wouldn’t be here,’ he answered. 

He knew all too well the TARDIS tendency to bring him to places that – while he might not have been aiming for them – he was needed. That, and the addition of a trigger-happy Time Agent and mysterious time travelling possible-companion made this point in time a temporally compromised one, and that was far too much of a coincidence to actually _be_ a coincidence. 

‘But he’s still got a Vortex Manipulator and who knows what else,’ Gertrude pointed out, shooting Val a suspicious look that was likely concerning her mysterious device. ‘He could be anywhere on the planet.’

‘One problem at a time,’ the Doctor said, although he too wondered exactly what Val had had stolen from her. If she thought he wouldn’t try to find out, she obviously didn’t know him as well as she said.

· ΘΣ ·

The Doctor strode into the TARDIS, relieved to find she was once again allowing him inside. He shouldn’t have been surprised. She knew he wasn’t about to leave in the middle of a crisis or whatever puzzle he was trying to solve, and definitely not one that involved universe ending paradoxes, Time Agents and a rather perplexing matter of the mysterious Val.

He was also relieved to see she had fixed at least some of the console hardware while he had been out.

Pulling the scanner around, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Val and the Time Agent followed him into the ship. Val’s eyes were dancing and a wide smile broke out over her face.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he heard her murmur, reaching out to stroke one of the coral support struts with the same familiarity and affection he himself displayed.

The sight of it sent a sharp queer jab of not-quite-pain through his hearts.

Clearly she had travelled with them for more than just one trip, which made his inability to remember her all the more confusing. Another tally in the “Future” column.

‘This is…’ Gertrude was staring at the cavernous interior of the TARDIS with the same gobsmacked expression everyone who saw it for the first time had. ‘…It looked smaller on the outside.’

He rolled his eyes as he booted up the TARDIS data mainframe.

Time Agents. Always had to be different. 

‘What’re you doing?’ Val wanted to know, coming over to join him.

‘Smartest ship in the universe – she could find a wasp’s personal timeline within the entire existence of its species,’ the Doctor replied as he navigated quickly through the various programs in the system in search for the one he was looking for. ‘One of the basic equations that lets the TARDIS navigate the Vortex involves possible and probable timelines. If I tweak it, I can likely get her to lock onto this Lowell character.’

Val’s eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘You can do that?’

‘You saying I haven’t before? Shouldn’t be more difficult than some primate from this period using an Internet search engi – ‘ He trailed off as the screen flickered. ‘No!’ Swirling Gallifreyan text told him that there was an error. ‘No, no, no!’

‘I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it’s not working,’ Gertrude remarked, attention wavering from the dimensional transcendentalism of the TARDIS.

‘The program’s damaged,’ the Doctor said, ‘Or it’s no longer possible to operate it within the existent parameters.’ 

He hadn’t used the search program since before the War, which meant that it was still geared to a mainframe where Gallifrey was the centre of the Normal Space timeline. Even a ship as advanced as the TARDIS could be hindered by obsolete technology. He would have to recalibrate everything, but that would take time – time which they didn’t have.

A solution to the problem presented itself readily; in fact, it had been in his mind since the Time Agent pointed out that they didn’t know where their quarry was going to be.

A particular gift of the Time Lords had always been the fact that they had the entirety of Time and Space running through their heads. Every second, they could see what was, what had been, what could be and what must never come to pass.

Part of that gift was a mere accident of fate, a genetic quirk allowing the Time-sensitive gene to activate; most of it was due to exposure to the Untempered Schism. From that terrifying moment, only centuries of study and mental practice at the Academy allowed a Time Lord to ignore the constant flux of Time in their minds for the sake of their sanity.

Unless your name was Master or Rani or Rassilon.

It was that mental fortitude that had given him the strength to shut his eyes to the dance of past, present and future – to effectively switch off his time sense – after the War. It had been the only thing that kept him from succumbing to the crushing guilt of his deeds.

The necessity of opening his mind back up to that part of himself was terrifying, and his mental wounds were still too painful and raw for him to want to try it.

‘Right, Plan B,’ he announced jovially. ‘Old-fashioned and slow, but then, what’s an adventure without a bit of unpredictability in the face of danger?’

‘He’s gonna start making sense sometime soon, right?’ Gertrude asked Val archly.

‘Don’t count on it.’

‘We can’t stop the exchange from happening tonight, cos we don’t know the where, the when or the who – well, half of the who, at any rate,’ the Doctor mused. ‘So we’ll have to settle for narrowing down who stands to benefit from CETP technology and stop ‘em before they get their hands on it.’

‘But that means Lowell gets away!’ Gertrude objected.

‘S’not really my immediate concern,’ the Doctor told her. ‘I’m more worried about the universe not ripping apart, not a Time Agent who’s gone AWOL. We can deal with him once we make sure reality doesn’t explode –’

‘If he gets away, more than one reality will explode,’ Val interrupted. ‘If he figures out exactly what the device he took from me does, we – and every universe out there – are going to be in trouble.’ She offered him an apologetic look. ‘Sorry. Trying to skirt around the need-to-know information with you is hard.’

‘Already told you I’m gonna forget all this,’ he pointed out.

‘Yeah, but I know you – and if you found out the whole truth, you’d bust out of your own timeline to do something about it, paradox or not,’ Val said quietly. ‘Especially right now, so soon after…’

She trailed off, and understanding hit him like a blow to the solar plexus.

She knew about the War.

‘How do you…?’

‘You told me.’

‘But you’re still…’ he couldn’t finish the sentence. She knew about the War, knew he was the only one left, and likely knew what he had done.

And she was still looking at him like he was more man than monster.

‘You did what you had to do,’ she told him, voice firm as though she could hear his thoughts. ‘Sometimes you just…have to. It hurts, but you go through with it because it’s what needs to be done. Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones. But you still have to choose.’

To say he was stunned was an understatement. To discover he would travel with someone in his future was one thing, but to learn that he had talked about the most painful bits of his past to some barely-grown human? More time must have passed between now and their meeting than he thought for him to be that comfortable.

It made him feel both guilty and hopeful that some of his pain would lessen.

‘Can one of you fill me in on what you’re talking about, or do I need to know the secret handshake?’ Gertrude deadpanned, abruptly reminding them that she was there.

‘It doesn’t matter right now,’ Val answered, in a tone that forestalled any other questions on the subject. Then, she adopted a clinical, detached tone that was different from the earnest way she had been talking before. She scrutinized the Time Agent, her eyes flitting around like she was doing a rapid calculation. ‘Your Vortex Manipulator – it has uplinks to the information systems from your time period, right? Agency Records, the Torchwood Archive, library planets, that kind of thing?’

‘Of course. Not that it’ll help us find any event that hasn’t happened yet until after it’s become established fact.’

‘Weren’t you listening to the Doctor? We don’t need to find an event, we just have to narrow down who Lowell could be dealing with,’ Val answered, business-like. ‘We can use it to compile a list of organizations that are traditionally anti-technology starting – I don’t know, when did people first start hating technology, anyway?’

This was directed at him.

‘There’s a hole with no bottom. Some of you lot never got over the abacus…but I figure you’re talking about complex machinery, so on Earth that would have been in the early 1800s.’

‘Right. We start with them and make a list of all similar people or organizations that came afterwards and which became defunct over time,’ Val explained, and the Doctor couldn’t help but think that she had slipped into a different persona, the way official sounding jargon spouted from her lips like she had learned it by rote. ‘Also, whoever Lowell’s working with would have had to be familiar with those generators, or they never would have contacted Lowell about a deal for them.’

‘So we would only really need to search until the thirtieth century, instead of the full range of a Vortex Manipulator,’ the Doctor contemplated. ‘Maybe the thirty-third – that’s when the last counterfeit devices disappeared.’

‘Right. That makes our search pool smaller – and we can narrow it down more if we cross-reference that information with any terrorists Gertrude knows who could have connections.’

‘That would take forever,’ Gertrude protested. ‘It might even burn out my Vortex Manipulator and then I’ll be stuck in this crappy time without being able to get home!’

‘We could deal with that if we had to,’ Val retorted. ‘But I think with a little jiggery-pokery on the Doctor’s end of things, we could temporarily boost the power and speed up the process.’

Even as she said it, the Doctor started to catch on what she was suggesting, and he nearly kicked himself for not coming up with the idea himself. It had been a while since he had had to solve seemingly unsolvable conundrums.

‘That’ll still have a lot of left-over options that we just don’t have time to weed through,’ Gertrude was protesting.

‘Not if I used some of the TARDIS’s remaining operational systems to provide the extra power,’ the Doctor mused. ‘We could even modify it to evaluate the potential temporal weak spots in individual timelines.’ He shot Gertrude a reproachful look. ‘Temporarily. The Time Agency doesn’t need any more excuse to meddle where they’re not wanted.’

Gertrude looked like she had something to say to that, but Val forestalled that by handing over the wrist strap.

The Doctor wasted no time creating a jerry-rigged hook-up of the device to the console. The TARDIS grumbled about the inferior technology meshing with her systems, but tolerated it as he silently promised to recalibrate the mainframe to ensure this sort of thing never happened again.

‘Do you need me to –?’

‘Got it, thanks,’ he cut Gertrude off as he familiarized himself with navigating the information systems of the Manipulator. That was all he needed – a Time Agent on his ship, let alone anywhere near the controls of his TARDIS. 

After several minutes of quick searching, Gallifreyan symbols rapidly flying by, he let out a triumphant cry.

‘Hah! Give the man a medal! Looks like December thirty-first, 1999,’ he determined. ‘There’s potential there – if all high forms of high-energy-density technology were to stop working, modern civilization would experience a crash. It could take a few months, but it’d happen. Billions would die. There’s one group poised to take advantage saying they predicted it. They’d end up taking over and imposing a luddite, theocratic society. The Neo Dark Ages, if you will.’

‘You think that’s possible?’ Gertrude asked, sceptical.

‘If we’re lucky.’

‘What do you mean, “if we’re lucky”? How is _that_ lucky?’

‘Cos it means chronovores don’t up and devour all of this reality, that’s why. It means some of the universe will survive to restart from the point when everything changes. But seeing as how no one’s around to ensure that happens anymore, I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

‘Then we’ve got to stop it!’ Gertrude cried. ‘This group…what are they called? We can track them down.’

‘According to the records here, it’s the Congregation of the Unending Trinity.’

‘Who?’ Val asked.

‘Some New Age group that got its start around now,’ he told her. ‘In this time period they’ve been predicting nuclear war and the end of the world for a solid decade. They’re holed up on a few properties outside of Cardiff – underground shelters, stockpiles of food, clothes, weapons – that sort of thing.’

‘It’s always bloody Cardiff.’

‘They get their fifteen minutes of fame before 2000, obviously, but by the thirty-second century they’re little more than a fringe group of zealous fanatics that occasionally has members immolate themselves when they think people are forgetting they exist.’

‘If they’re a fringe cult, where would they get the know-how or even the money to hire an Ex-Time Agent to sell them stolen technology like a…CETP, you said? You’d think that’d be a bit pricey, yeah?’

‘My thoughts exactly.’

‘Not…necessarily,’ Gertrude offered, sounding more hesitant than she had since they met. When the Doctor and Val waited for her to continue, she added, ‘I mean, members of the group in the thirty-second century would definitely have no way of affording that. From what I remember about them, they were living in work-camp conditions that bit. But there would have been any number of former members who left and made something of themselves.’

‘And not every member of the group would’ve left cos they didn’t believe the core teachings anymore,’ the Doctor caught on. ‘Some might’ve left cos the party line wasn’t cutting it anymore…I assume you’ve an inkling?’

‘More of a vague idea. Have you ever heard of Angra Gorg?’

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply negatively, but Val tensed and a shadow passed over her face. ‘The terrorist, yeah? Responsible for the bombing of the Lagrange colonies?’

‘Another adventure-to-be?’ the Doctor inquired, gaining only a tight smile in response.

‘We’ve encountered him before,’ she confirmed. ‘But I thought we’d dealt with him. I guess not. I didn’t know he was born into any cult, though.’

‘You must have run into him before he collapsed the third moon of Jupiter,’ Gertrude said. ‘He claimed that was done in the name of the CUT’s teachings. And then he promised he was preparing something even bigger and just disappeared. No one ever heard from him again, and even the Agency hasn’t turned up anything on him throughout its existence.’

‘So maybe he didn’t just disappear. Maybe he came here.’

‘The era he’s from, that’s about the time you lot take your first steps into time travel,’ the Doctor mused grimly. ‘It would fit.’

‘Advances,’ Gertrude snorted. ‘It didn’t really get off its feet for another two hundred years – those early devices were primitive and dangerous.’

‘They should’ve stayed that way,’ the Doctor countered. ‘You humans have no business messing around with things you don’t understand.’

‘Oh, yeah, because you’re one to talk –’

‘Can we put the Time-Lords-versus-Time-Agents argument aside for a mo’?’ Val interjected. ‘I think Gorg is a bit more important right now.’

‘Maybe,’ Gertrude allowed, offering the Doctor one more glower. ‘Maybe not. All of this is just a bunch of guesswork – the connections are too coincidental.’

‘No such thing as coincidence,’ Val declared. ‘Not in my experience, anyhow. From what you say, this bloke has the motive and the means – and who says it wasn’t Lowell who contacted him? Set up a meeting close enough to Volcano Day to put things in motion but far enough away that the Time Agency wouldn’t notice.’

_Volcano Day?_ the Doctor wondered.

‘Even if you’re right, it still doesn’t help us much,’ Gertrude said. ‘We don’t know where he is. And now we’ve got two nutjobs getting ready to destroy the world.’

‘Actually…’ the Doctor trailed off, an idea forming, ‘we might have more than you think.’

‘How?’

‘Well, you both know what he looks like, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Val agreed, while Gertrude nodded.

‘Then we can tap the CCTV system here. It’s not the most advanced bit of security, seeing as it’s 1999, but it’s better than nothing.’

‘Still too much like searching for a needle in a haystack,’ Gertrude protested.

‘Not really,’ he told her grimly. ‘As you said, time travel devices from the thirty-second century weren’t just primitive and dangerous – they had adverse side effects on anyone who used ‘em. Problems with dematerialization and rematerialization, body reconstruction…they were only really good for one or two trips. To a body not used to it…well, they’d need time and a place to recover.’

‘They’d avoid hospitals,’ Gertrude theorized slowly, ‘And the currency from the thirty-second century is different from now, so he’d need to go somewhere free.’

‘Homeless shelter, maybe – if he didn’t rob someone so he could afford a room somewhere,’ Val suggested. ‘And most of those have security feeds in case of trouble.’ She turned to the Doctor and held up her phone. ‘Think you can fix this so it can tap into the security network?’

‘I’ll do you one better – I’ll get it to lock on to the face of our friend Mr. Gorg,’ the Doctor smirked, reaching for her phone. He already had his screwdriver in hand.

· ΘΣ ·

It took longer than expected for them to find the requisite CCTV footage, and only because Gorg’s face was no longer completely like the one either Gertrude or Val remembered.

The Doctor hadn’t lied when he explained the problems associated with primitive time travel. The man on the film footage had obviously suffered the brunt of it.

His face was hideously distorted, with the right side appearing normal if unnaturally pale, while the left was distinctly lower. His left eye, nostril and part of his mouth were out of sync with the rest of his face, as though someone had drawn a line down the middle. From the stoop in his shoulder, obviously other parts of his body had been afflicted as well.

‘And that’s why you shouldn’t attempt time travel without a proper shield,’ the Doctor had said contemptuously, glad to see that despite her bravado, Gertrude looked a little green.

After identifying Gorg, it took a bit of legwork and inquiries in three different homeless shelters before they finally caught up with him.

He was loitering in the entrance of the Clapham Junction train station, eyeing the schedules from just outside of the barriers. He could have been any other person waiting for someone off the evening train, if it hadn’t been for his hideous visage – even that was hidden by a high collared coat and cap.

The Doctor sauntered up to him once the transport security guards headed off on their rounds, while Val and Gertrude positioned themselves at the exit to keep him from running.

‘Ay-up chuck, fancy a bit of chat?’ he led with.

The disfigured man’s head inclined to him, and something like anger registered in his good eye, before he realized he’d been approached by a stranger. Something in the Doctor’s eyes must have tipped him off, because a second later he bolted.

Obviously whatever damage had been done to him physically and mentally hadn’t done away with his fight or flight instinct.

Val sprang forward to block him ‘Calm down, we just want to –’

He gave an animalistic growl and shoved her off, sending her careening into the doorway as he passed. Gertrude took off after him, fumbling with her stun-gun as she did so.

The Doctor paused briefly to haul Val up by the hand, and they hurried after the other two. It didn’t occur to him until they nearly lost Gorg at the bridge above the train yard that they were holding hands the whole time they were running, and he only noticed when Val let go of him so that she could climb over the wall.

They ended up running across train tracks and trying to get ahead of incoming trains. Gorg ran without having any obvious idea of where he was going, his only goal obviously being to get away.

It wasn’t until they made it to an underpass on the other end of the train yard that they managed to get the jump on him – literally. Val surged forward and wrestled him to the ground, sending them both into a heap.

He reared around, apparently trying to take a bite out of him like some kind of animal, but Gertrude had caught up and held out some kind of sonic device that had him cowering in a foetal position before he could manage it.

‘Nice tackle,’ she said with approval.

‘Interoffice rugby matches,’ Val panted back.

Gertrude stepped forward, hauling Gorg to his feet and shoving him into the wall by his throat with one hand, the other holding her weapon of choice.

‘Oi, leave off!’ the Doctor snapped, shoving her and her weapon aside. ‘There’s better means of persuasion out there, you know.’

‘We don’t have time for better. This is fast and effective.’

He rolled his eyes, holding back a few choice things he had to say about that and instead focussed solely on the man in front of them. Catching and holding his eyes, he spoke quietly, ‘Angra Gorg, I’ve a feeling you’re in a lot of pain right now. But if you tell us what we want to know, I promise I’ll do my best to make it stop. That sounds good, yeah?’

The man stared at him for a bit longer than a standard blink, and the Doctor felt a brief jab of pity. This man might have been known for his chillingly calculated intelligence once, but now he was only passingly related to that.

‘He said we could make it stop – I could make it stop – I would be the Saviour, the martyr and peace would reign,’ Gorg whispered, low and conspiratorially, a line of drool creeping out of the corner of his mouth. ‘No more of the sound – the whirring, constant whirring and gnashing and beaming – just silence. Blessed silence for the Congregation, and I would be…I would be.’

He nodded to himself.

‘How did you get here?’

‘Gave me a device, the sneaky one did. Didn’t want to use it, but war means sacrifice. Sin for the good of the many,’ Gorg giggled. ‘Pressed the button – vorp! – landed here. This place is so _loud_ , so dirty and horrible…the pit itself with demons at every turn. Knew when I got here, this was why I’d been chosen – the righteous one shall enter the pit and deliver us all from evil. No more sound – but pain! So much pain!’ He whimpered wetly, raising a shaking hand to his mismatched face. ‘Scars. Battle scars before battle.’

‘How were you going to do that? How’d he intend to win the battle?’

‘Fellow soldiers. Brothers in arms against the Abomination, the Destroyer that creates itself,’ Gorg rambled. ‘The CUT are just the foot soldiers, we bear the message but he will strike the first blow –’

‘This is taking too long,’ Gertrude interrupted, nudging the Doctor out of the way. ‘Where are you meeting Malcolm Lowell?’ Gorg’s eyes went wide. ‘Answer me, you piece of filth, or the last few minutes you have alive will be the longest, most painful you’ve ever –’

He seemed to be struggling. ‘…kil…kill…n…’

‘Oh, trust me, killing you is definitely on the agenda, but not until you tell me what I want to hear!’

‘Stop it!’ Val snapped. ‘Can’t you see he’s having trouble breathing?’

Bloodshot eyes focussed on Val, and Gorg gasped out a blood dribbled, ‘…Witch…hour…’ __

He gave final shudder and then went still.

‘What’d you do?’ Val demanded furiously. ‘You didn’t have to kill him!’

‘I didn’t!’

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ the Doctor interrupted, and then added, ‘Not entirely, anyhow. Sonic scrambling and the work-over probably didn’t help, but Gorg wasn’t long for it, especially once he decided to run.’ He gestured at the man’s face. ‘Look at him – now imagine what his insides must look like. Veins and muscles that don’t line up? He’s probably been haemorrhaging internally since he got here.’

‘So that last chase finished him off.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’ll have my apology now,’ Gertrude prompted blankly.

‘Sorry I accused you of torturing someone to death,’ Val replied sweetly. ‘This time.’

‘D’you both mind retracting the claws for a mo?’ the Doctor interrupted. ‘Or shall we put the possible destruction of the universe on hold until you’re done with the domestics?’

Val had the decency to look embarrassed. 

‘Sorry,’ she said, directing it to both Gertrude and the Doctor. ‘But the fact of the matter is, we don’t have any way of tracking Lowell down now.’

Gertrude nodded in rueful agreement. 

The Doctor smirked. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’


	4. Chapter Three: Passing in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Val and Gertrude finally confront the temporal terrorist, only to learn that something more ominous looms in the shadows. The Doctor learns something unexpected - and terrifying - about Val.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Takes places after the events of _The Day of the Doctor_ and before _Rose_.

**_The Shortest Life  
by ErtheChilde_ **

* * *

_‘We’re falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world. And if we let go…’_

* * *

**THREE**

Gertrude and Val were looking at him like he was mad.

‘Explain,’ Val ordered, although it didn’t sound like a command so much as plea born of curiosity.

‘He said “witch hour”, which is a thirtieth century corruption of “witching hour”. Midnight,’ the Doctor explained. ‘We’ve already established whatever’s going on is meant to do so tonight, so…tonight, at midnight.’

‘You said it yourself, though,’ Gertrude pointed out. ‘His insides weren’t properly aligned. He was rambling something fierce before he died, maybe that’s all it was. Crazy talk.’

‘He had enough self-awareness to make a run for it and try to explain himself. Also, your truth assessor didn’t go off, so he was being honest. Also, your threatening did its job. He was properly afraid, and so he told us what we wanted to know.’

‘Midnight,’ Val echoed thoughtfully.

‘Even if that was what he was doing, it still doesn’t tell us where he was supposed to be meeting Malcolm,’ Gertrude protested. ‘It could be anywhere.’

‘Anywhere in London,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘If Lowell gave Gorg the device responsible for getting here, he likely knew the damage it would cause. Gorg wouldn’t be transmatting anywhere else any time soon, so it would have to be local.’

‘And you’ve got some idea about that, I guess?’

‘“Kiln”,’ the Doctor said smugly. ‘He’s meeting Lowell near a kiln. Probably only a handful of places in London where you can find one of those – at least one you’d still call a kiln, anyway – so if we narrow it down, we can catch our man.’

There was a beat.

‘What’s a kiln?’ Gertrude asked, and Val nodded in confused agreement.

The Doctor shot them both disapproving glances. ‘Didn’t you people learn history in school? Or anything?’

‘Dropped out when I was sixteen. After that, I ended up travelling with a madman in a box,’ Val retorted with a grin. ‘Never learned about kilns, but I can overthrow dictatorships like a pro.’

He found himself fighting a grin at that.

‘Kilns were a bit like primitive ovens,’ the Doctor explained. ‘Most rudimentary furnace you lot could come up with. They used ‘em a lot during the Industrial Revolution to bake bricks or cement, but not anymore. Not in this time, anyhow.’

‘So why would Gorg be talking about one?’

‘His people were back to the land types, right?’ Gertrude interjected. ‘No machinery, if they could manage it. He’d probably be right at home with something low-tech like a kiln.’ She turned to the Doctor. ‘But if they don’t use them anymore, where are we supposed to find one?’

‘London’s a city full of history. I’m sure there are more than enough kilns around, collected and protected by various historical societies,’ the Doctor dismissed. ‘The trick would be to find one that’s not being constantly monitored by CCTV.’

‘One which would be easily accessible to Gorg,’ Gertrude added thoughtfully. ‘Like you said, he wouldn’t be going very far with his injuries, and Lowell probably knows that. If we create a perimeter based on the locations we know Gorg has been, then cross-check it with known kiln locations in the area –’

‘Burgess Park.’

The Doctor and Gertrude turned to Val.

‘What?’

‘Burgess Park. There’s a kiln there. Or, well, I think it’s a kiln. Dome shaped building made of, I dunno, bricks or stones? With a kind of…cave-looking chunk built into it?’

The Doctor nodded. ‘Sounds about right.’

‘There’s one of those at Burgess Park. I just never knew what it was,’ she explained. ‘We used to go on class trips there as kids, and we’d play hide-and-seek.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyhow, that’s in easy walking distance of all the shelters we visited and unlikely to have a lot of video surveillance on it.’

‘It’s worth looking into,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘We can check the exact probability on the ship.’

‘What about him?’ Val asked, glancing down at the body. ‘We can’t just leave him, can we?’

‘Why not?’ Gertrude asked. ‘He put a lot of people through a lot worse. Rotting away in anonymity’s a good look for him.’

‘How does that make us any better than him?’ Val challenged. ‘Someone I once knew told me that it’s how we treat our enemies is the truest reflection of who we are.’

‘That isn’t always the case,’ the Doctor said darkly, remembering the War. ‘If you’ve been travelling with me as long as you say you have, you know we can’t save everyone. Shouldn’t, either.’

‘Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.’

‘Sometimes it does.’

Something like sympathy, or perhaps hurt, flashed through her eyes. 

‘It’s really soon after for you, isn’t it?’ she asked him quietly.

The Doctor didn’t answer, the words catching in his throat when he tried, and instead walked away from the two women. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, least of all someone he didn’t even know.

He should have known that she would follow him. Val struck him as someone with a stubborn streak as long as his.

‘Thought you were all for a humane send-off?’ he snapped. ‘Reality could be ripping apart, but oh yes, let’s waste some time on a funeral.’

‘Gertrude said she’d take care of him,’ Val explained quietly. ‘Humane and everything. She may have questionable morals, but her word’s good I think.’ She paused, then added. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It just surprised me, is all. You’re so…different…from when I first met you. Meet you.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I’ll get over it.’

Gertrude had gone out of earshot with the body, and the Doctor finally turned and considered Val carefully, before voicing a suspicion that had been building all evening.

‘You’re not actually travelling with me anymore, are you?’

She tensed at that. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Why come to me for help getting your device back if you were here with me to begin with?’

‘Why haven’t you said anything about it until now?’ she countered, apparently just as practiced in answering questions with questions as he was. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the patience to talk in circles with her right now.

Besides, something had just occurred to him.

‘This device…you said it was taken from you by some stranger, and instead of finding your Doctor to help you, you came to me. How do I know it wasn’t me who took it from you in the first place?’

‘What? No!’

‘I wouldn’t know a future incarnation of myself immediately by sight, not if I’ve regenerated, and maybe you could take advantage of the short time it did take me to find out to get your device back and scarper!’

‘I’d never do that! And who said anything about regenerating?’

‘You’ve been looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost all night,’ he snapped. ‘Now tell the truth!’

‘No – I’m not travelling with you right now!’ she hissed, and he could see something like tears and frustration in her eyes. ‘I was with you, this you, and then the next you, until…’

She couldn’t seem to voice what had happened.

‘Until we’re separated,’ the Doctor finished stonily.

‘Temporarily,’ she insisted. ‘This thing that I’m looking for, it’s helping me track you down. I was waiting for it to recharge when it got stolen from me. And then when the TARDIS key brought me to you…’ She sighed. ‘You’re right, I saw this you, and I knew it was the wrong time. And ordinarily, when I see the wrong you, I stay out of your way, just like you taught me. But I needed your help tonight, so I figured…I’d keep things as vague as possible and hope you had a way to keep a bigger paradox from happening.’

‘So this need to get back to me is in addition to the supposedly universe ending trouble you were talking about before?’ he prompted. 

‘You could say they’re directly related,’ she told him with a sad smile. ‘I’m going to find you again, Doctor. Or you’re going to find me. Maybe we’ll meet in the middle.’

‘Do I even know you’re looking for me?’

‘No,’ she replied sadly. ‘Pretty sure you think I’m lost forever. The word ‘impossible’ might’ve come up in conversation. But seeing as I’m here, talking to you? That’s at least halfway to impossible.’

He shook his head, a hollow feeling taking shape in the pit of his stomach. ‘Maybe I just say that to you because it’s time. Not one for companions sticking around indefinitely – can’t imagine I’d want you to waste too much of your life on me once we part, no matter which me it is.’

Val’s contrite expression morphed into one of anger and denial.

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘That wasn’t the reason and that’ll never be the case! I promised you forever, and however much of a forever I’ve got, it’s yours!’

He couldn’t help the way his mouth fell open a fraction at that. 

The sincerity in her voice and the naked emotion on her face told him that this, at least, was something he could take as fact. She was telling the truth and it was the absolute last thing he had ever imagined someone to be saying to him. 

Companions had expressed similar sentiments to him before, about not wanting to leave, but that had been before the War. And as for that promise of forever…?

He didn’t get a chance to comment on it, however, because Gertrude appeared beside them at that precise moment.

‘Sorry to break up the love-fest,’ she said, not sounding sorry in the least. ‘But we still have to find Lowell – which, if we somehow manage to do, he’s still expecting Gorg to show up. If he even smells a hint of the Agency on this, we lose our chance to catch him.’

The Doctor abruptly shifted his attention back to their current task.

‘Got on idea ‘bout that,’ he said and sent Val a look that promised they would continue their conversation once they saved the world. ‘Tell me again how he got the jump on you – you mentioned something about being temporarily paralyzed?’

· ΘΣ ·

After dissecting everything from their conversation with Gorg for any details that might be helpful, they returned to the TARDIS. Between himself and Gertrude, they managed to design a primitive containment area that like the stasis field that had captured Val earlier, would make teleporting or Vortexing out temporarily impossible. Someone would just need to distract Lowell while it was set up.

Gertrude and Val appeared to unanimously agree that he would be the one to meet Lowell.

‘He’d spot Time Agency easily,’ Val said, ‘and seeing as he’s already run into me once tonight, it’s best he doesn’t see me again. You’re the only option.’ 

‘Besides, you kinda look like his type of people,’ Gertrude said, eying appreciatively. ‘Totally scrumptious.’

From the filthy look in her eyes, he had a feeling that wasn’t the word she had been aiming for. Possibly the TARDIS had filtered out what she actually meant to say. When he turned to Val, he found traces of the same expression on her face as well – although when she caught him looking, she went red and looked away.

He was utterly bemused at this, not knowing definitively what he currently looked like. For the first time he wondered if it hadn’t been a mistake not to at least take a gander in the mirror when he chose his clothes.

That impulse had vanished into thoughtfulness almost immediately when he remembered their earlier conversation.

Forever.

It was a concept that Gallifreyans had a slightly better familiarity with than humans – Time Lords even more so. Yet even they never bandied that word about casually. Even the most long-lived of Gallifreyans refrained from promising one another forever because of the inherent impossibility in keeping such an oath. 

He had only ever heard of one pair that had managed that, but they were the exception to the cosmic rule. Even his people died eventually, and while longevity was a gift of his species, forever wasn’t.

Still, he got the distinct idea that not only had Val promised him that without any idea of what she was doing, but his next self hadn’t corrected her.

Which begged the question of just how much brain damage he was going to suffer during his next regeneration.

He didn’t ask her any more about it, though, because soon all three of them were hurrying to Burgess Park to set their trap. They were lucky to have at least two hours before the rendezvous to do so.

Once they were set up and each waiting in position, the Doctor tried hard not to think what would happen if he and Val were wrong about Lowell showing up or not.

A half hour before the designated meeting time, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The moonlit common was utterly devoid of people but for the suave character in period clothing that stood beside the shadowy kiln. He appeared swiftly and silently into thin air, adjusting something large and bulky across his back, before keying something into the wristband he wore.

From his place inside the domed opening of the kiln, the Doctor checked his watch. The women would have set up the teleportation disruptor field by now, and would be waiting for him to engage Lowell before turning it on.

It was only a hastily built containment area that he and Gertrude had cobbled together, but it would stop the former Time Agent from Vortexing out of their meeting. The trouble was, it would only work for about a minute or so – meaning timing was critical from the second he actually engaged with Lowell.

Nodding to himself, he strode out of shadows and came to a stop in front of his current quarry. 

Lowell was young looking, all spikey bleach blond hair, piercings and painted fingernails; he also sported one of those poncey goatees that made the Doctor want to punch him in the mouth.

‘You’re not Gorg,’ the beady-eyed man said flatly, eyes narrowed and hand twitching toward his wristband.

‘Gorg’s ill. I’m the Doctor.’

‘Doctor who?’

‘Just the Doctor,’ he said firmly, feeling a frequency in the air that was too distinct for human senses. Evidently the stasis field to disable Vortex travel was up and running. Gertrude and Val had done their jobs then. ‘And I’d like to get this business done with soon, yeah? A million other time periods I’d like to be stuck in, and this one’s far from any of ‘em.’

Lowell remained tense. ‘Gorg didn’t contact me about someone else making the exchange.’

‘Well, he was having a bit of trouble talking out of his mouth,’ the Doctor pointed out coolly, careful to stick completely to the truth when he noticed that Lowell had the same distortion in the skin above his temple as Gertrude. Another truth assessor. ‘Funny how no one mentioned to him the possibility of rematerializing looking like a human jigsaw puzzle.’

Lowell snorted with malicious humour. ‘Occupational hazard. Primitive time travel’s a bit like Russian Roulette. I take it you got off lucky, more or less?’

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘We gonna make small talk, or can we get on with it?’

‘I assume you’re authorized to make the payment then?’

‘Soon as I examine the merchandise,’ the Doctor replied, bringing out his sonic. 

Lowell’s hand moved again, this time to a bulky shape at his side which might have been a blaster. He paused only when he saw that the Doctor hadn’t brought out a recognizable weapon. ‘What’s that?’

‘Multipurpose tool,’ the Doctor answered, again truthfully. ‘Got settings for magnification and illumination so I can make sure I’m getting the genuine article. Scan it if you don’t believe me, it’s not a weapon.’

As expected, Lowell did just that, likely only registering the processing power of twenty-nine computers instead of anything threatening.

‘Alright then,’ Lowell said, keying something into his wrist strap. He frowned almost imperceptibly, and then shot the Doctor a wry grin. ‘Though, unless you’ve got an advanced understanding of engineering, you won’t be able to tell much with your little torch there.’

‘Why d’you think I was brought in on this?’ the Doctor countered.

A holographic image appeared over their heads, showcasing machinery and plans that the Doctor instantly recognized as a true CETP.

As his eyes flitted over them, he heard the distinctive sound of a safety catch being unlocked. 

‘Who the hell are you?’ Lowell snarled, aiming his blaster at the Doctor’s head. ‘And what’d you do to my Vortex Manipulator?’

‘Turned it off for a bit,’ the Doctor answered, not reacting to the weapon being pointed at him. ‘As for what I’m doing, I’m making sure some stupid ape doesn’t accidentally rip apart reality. The reality that it’s my job to protect,’ he went on darkly. With every syllable, he felt more ice drip from his tone. ‘You Time Agents – or ex-Time Agents, or whatever you are – are always mucking about with what you don’t understand. If the most advanced time sensitive species in existence couldn’t control time, what the hell do you think gives you a better chance?’

‘Something you couldn’t even comprehend, _mate_ ,’ Lowell said with an unpleasant smile. ‘And you’re not going to be around to try, anyhow –’

Neither got the chance to see how that would have played out, however, because all of a sudden the weapon was knocked out of Lowell’s hand. Just as unexpectedly, Gertrude materialized and kicked Lowell in the head, sending him to the ground.

A moment later, there was a crunching noise and a snarl of pain as she stepped down hard on the wrist that held his Vortex Manipulator. 

‘Malcolm Lowell, by the authority vested in me by the Time Agency, your ass is under arrest,’ Gertrude snarled. ‘And if I have anything to say about it, a damp jail cell in the methane mines of Squadra One is the best deal you’re going to get.’

‘Hey, Tru,’ Lowell leered at her. ‘I take it you haven’t gotten over that quantum singularity I set in your partner’s stomach, huh?’

Val winced, probably at the mental image.

‘I hope you two aren’t aiming to pull the sympathy card with this one,’ Gertrude warned, checking something on her wrist strap.

The Doctor glanced at Lowell’s face once more, seeing in his dark eyes hatred and blatant lack of remorse. ‘No.’

‘Not this time,’ Val agreed, her own eyes hard. She moved forward and hauled Lowell to his feet, patting him down for other weapons while Gertrude and the Doctor watched. Then, she deftly removed the large, glowing disc-shaped device from his back and examined it.

‘ _That’s_ what he took?’ the Doctor demanded as Val slipped the strap around her own shoulders and turned it around to examine a small screen on the machine.

‘It’s not what it looks like,’ she told him simply. 

‘It looks like a portable portal generator, is what it looks like.’

‘Oh- _kay_ , maybe it’s sort of what it looks like,’ she winced. ‘But it’s completely necessary to finding you, like I said.’

‘Val…’

‘I’m can’t tell you, Doctor,’ she said, sounding miserable. ‘I can’t risk you getting involved and causing a paradox. Not with things as…fragile as they are.’

There was something in the timbre of her voice that stopped him from pursuing the matter, which was an indicator of just how serious it must have been.

‘Whatever it is, it’s leaking artron energy and loads of other radiation,’ he said after a moment. ‘How many times have you used it?’

‘More than a dozen.’

This time he did start. ‘Are you mad?! You could be killed! Death by radiation isn’t a good way to go, especially for a human!’

‘There’s more important out there than me right now, Doctor.’

He could have pursued it, but the matter of a possibly fallen companion would have to wait another spell, because the ex-Time Agent suddenly spoke up.

‘You think it’s all black and white, don’t you?’ he sneered. ‘Collar a terrorist, go home and sleep like a baby? Well I’ve got a tip for you – it’s not just me. I’m one of many. We’ll find it, you see – flush it from its den and destroy it.’

‘Destroy what?’ the Doctor asked coldly, fixing the depraved man with his stoniest glare.

The man made a choked noise between a laugh and as gasp for air.

‘The Bad Wolf! I was sent here to bring about its destruction – those that guard it won’t always be able to protect it!’

Before anyone could parse those words, or even react, Lowell suddenly darted forward and grabbed hold of Gertrude, holding her in a choke hold with one arm, while his undamaged hand ripped her Vortex Manipulator off.

‘We will succeed and our war against the Abomination will come to an end!’

He punched a button, and disappeared before their eyes.

For a moment the three of them stood in silence.

‘Well, that’s that then,’ Gertrude said after a moment.

‘Awfully blasé ‘bout losing your target, aren’t you?’ the Doctor questioned.

‘Didn’t lose him. I figured the slippery son of a bitch would make a try for my wristband the minute I disabled his. So I froze the coordinates to a single destination.’

‘Time Agency headquarters?’ Val asked.

‘Centre of a black hole, actually.’

Val looked stricken.

‘It’s a mercy compared to what my people might’ve done to him,’ the Doctor said, hoping his tone didn’t betray the weariness he felt. 

Val nodded silently and swallowed.

‘Ever heard of that? “Bad Wolf?”’ the Doctor went on. 

Gertrude shook her head. ‘Can’t say’s I have. Probably gibberish. I did tell you he was a psychopath, right?’

He turned to Val. ‘What about you?’

If he hadn’t been so mindful of her body language throughout the entire ordeal, he would have missed the look in her eyes before she shrugged casually and suggested, ‘I’ve seen it written a bunch of places around the estates.’

‘Whatever it is, if there are more people involved than Lowell, the Agency’s going to have their hands full,’ Gertrude fretted. ‘Which means I’m probably going to be hauled off all of my other cases.’ 

‘How are you getting back?’ Val asked. ‘He took your tech.’

‘Standard procedure – if the Agency doesn’t hear from me over a twenty-four hour period, they’ll send someone to find me. There’s a rendezvous point. ‘Til then, I’m going to get some _much_ needed rest and relaxation,’ she answered, and then leered at them. ‘You’re both more than welcome to join me. I hear the Savoy’s nice.’

‘Pass,’ the Doctor and Rose chorused.

Gertude laughed, then considered them for a long moment. ‘Whatever you two got yourself caught up in, something tells me it’s beyond my jurisdiction –’ Doctor tried not to snort at the concept of Time Agency jurisdiction holding any sway over him. ‘– so don’t feel guilty in letting you off. _This time_. But if we ever meet again…’

‘On that really, really remote chance, you just make sure you don’t tell us you met us before. Or better yet, turn around and walk away.’

The Time Agent laughed and said to the Doctor, ‘Your girl’s a real pistol, Doc. I hope you find each other again in your relative times.’

It was a rather touching comment from the brash woman who had tortured him not hours before.

‘I hope we don’t meet again,’ the Doctor told her. ‘Don’t much fancy Time Agents.’

‘Really?’ Gertrude snorted as she started to walk away. ‘I never would’ve guessed.’

They watched her until she was gone. Val exhaled in something like relief. ‘Well, that’s done with at least. Now I can –’

‘You know what he was talking about.’ The Doctor’s tone left no room that she might mistake it for a question. ‘Those words. Bad Wolf.’

The look of a caged animal entered her eyes. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s too early.’

‘If what he said before he disappeared – if this kind of thing is gonna happen again, it doesn’t matter how early it is, I need to know.’

‘If you knew, you wouldn’t hide your memories of tonight,’ Val answered. ‘And to protect the timelines, you have to.’

‘There’s an awful lot you’re hiding from me which would fall under that category,’ he told her harshly. ‘What you’re doing here, what that device of yours does, why I can’t know the meaning of a simple phrase…I’m beginning to think perhaps you’re trying to change time, not maintain it.’

‘No!’ she protested, briefly losing the composure she had maintained since he met her. ‘It’s not that, Doctor, trust me.’

‘That’s just it, _Val_ , I don’t,’ he snapped, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue. ‘Oh, you’ve spun a pretty story, and I’m sure you’ve been feeding me a few small truths or half-truths to keep your tale convincing, but it’s far from enough.’

She seemed to struggle with something, before an element of resignation set in.

‘It’s called a dimension hopper,’ she told him dully. ‘Basically, it lets me travel between universes.’

‘That’s impossible.’

She laughed at that. ‘You keep saying that word. I don’t think it means what you think it does.’

‘The walls between dimensions are closed, ever since –’

‘The Time War, I know,’ she sighed. ‘But as it turns out, it’s not so much impossible as…really difficult.’

‘Forget difficult, it’s dangerous!’ he snapped. ‘Every time you use that thing, you risk ripping apart the fabric not only of this universe but every other one dependant on it!’

‘D’you think I don’t know that?!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘That I don’t know each time I make a jump I might end up somewhere with no oxygen, or in the path of a bullet or…in the middle of a black hole? That every time could be the last time, and I’ll never get to see my –’ She swallowed and squared her shoulders. ‘I have to do this, Doctor. And you have to forget about me for now.’

‘And if I don’t?’

Her expression turned uncompromising. ‘If you don’t hide the memories, I’ll have to take them from you.’ 

‘How d’you propose to do that? Human methods of memory erasure are never permanent for my people.

‘Superior Time Lord biology, yeah, I know,’ she smiled sadly. ‘You think I’ve never had to erase your memory?’

That caught him up short.

‘We’ve run into each other before this?’

‘More than once,’ she admitted. ‘And almost every version of you is bloody stubborn. I’d take it as a compliment that you’re so intent on remembering me, except I know it’s not for the reasons I wish you did.’

‘Which are?’

Even as she closed herself off again, he still saw the bewildering glimmer of longing flash through her eyes.

Another suspicion was forming, one he _knew_ couldn’t possibly be true.

But he was curious, and there was one way to find out without looking into her mind. With all the information she was leaving out and the possible paradoxes involved, there really was no other choice.

Against every principle he had about examining timelines so close to his own – against every warning instinct he had about using his temporal senses so soon after the war – he reached for her time.

She somehow realized what he was about to do, because she jerked back with a horrified expression on her face.

‘No, don’t – !’ 

But her warning was lost in the vacuum as the barrier between himself and time fell away.

For a moment, there was nothing but echoing, endless darkness and his awareness of the all-pervasive, glowing Gordian knot that was time. He was alone, crushed in by the emptiness and loneliness that had plagued him since regeneration.

In the midst of that chaos, her timeline loomed like a burning sun. Without the bolstering presence of his people, trying to discern where it began and where it ended felt like being tossed about by a riptide. 

He hadn’t faced something so vast, inexplicable and – to put plainly – terrifying, since looking into the Untempered Schism as a child. 

Now, as then, his first instinct was to run, and instead he found himself swept up into the temporal storm.

The pain was a vast, ever-changing tangle of events and probability that loomed before him, its loose threads hurtling faster and faster toward a fixed end that had never existed before. Realities spawned and were destroyed within picoseconds, temporal parasites feasting on accidental paradoxes while entropy built up like necrotic tissue.

He was aware of his own timeline pulsing and burning within that tangle, disjointed as any other Time Lord’s would be.

Had been.

The blurry, indistinct shadows that had existed on the periphery of his mind since the War suddenly sprang fully formed into infinite reaching threads. They intersected and coiled around the primary timeline like weeds, choking it and changing it as paradoxes and possibilities warred for dominance. He was quickly losing himself in the pull of time, the sense of being chained to a comet nearly overpowering him.

He felt the drum of his own heartsbeat, pounding out a sinister rhythm.

_‘…What is…what was…what could be…what must not be…what is…what was…what could be…’_

He couldn’t breathe, drowning in the sea of golden timelines, dizzy as they wove into one another or abruptly snapped off or spawned new timelines for no reason. He was the only one left with the ability to fix the snarls in the lines, yet as he watched the disorder continue, being made and unmade at an exponential rate, he knew that the task was too insurmountable.

He would never be able to do this.

He felt himself begin to drift, his senses shying away from the disordered timelines.

Something pink and golden flickered on the edge of his consciousness.

_Doctor._

Abruptly, his view of the shredded Web of Time shifted, and he was aware of a hand in his own.

He was stunned to realize it was her.

He knew he was still within his mind, yet suddenly he could see Val standing beside him, grasping his hand as she faced the timelines that stretched out before them.

_Doctor,_ she confirmed, her mouth not moving but her tone wistful.

How was she doing this? She wasn’t a telepath, he would definitely have noticed that…

_Nope,_ she replied, pronouncing the ‘p’ in a rather exaggerated fashion that was incongruous with the fact neither of them was physically speaking. _Not telepathic. But you are. And you once said something about how even if I can’t transmit, I can receive._

An image accompanied that sentiment before she could completely slam down a mental door on it. It was a memory, one filled with such intimacy, desperation, completion and _need_ that he recoiled in surprise.

That…couldn’t be.

_You told me – will tell me – that the first time you tried this, you nearly knocked yourself into a coma. It’ll get easier, but right now, you can’t do this alone._

Whether that was true or not, he wasn’t sure what use she would be. If a Time Lord couldn’t navigate this mess, what chance did a human have?

_Cos I’m just a stupid ape, yeah? I never said I’d be doing the navigating. You’re the designated driver, I’m just here to hold the map and keep you company._

He wanted to scoff at the sheer human audacity to think mere stubbornness could lead to success, but her hand suddenly tightened on his and he was assaulted by an outside force, a barrage of memories and emotions – 

Joy and relief at seeing him – the whir of the TARDIS returning for her – unquestionable belief that together they could defeat any obstacle – the press of lips as the Vortex passed between them – overwhelming sadness that they would soon be parted – a promise never to leave – a vow of forever – hope that they would meet again, in the right time – an underlying, deep, unquestionable pulse of – 

He physically jolted at the strength of that one emotion and abruptly found himself conscious once more. From the sharp pain shooting up through his kneecaps, his legs had given out. 

He was kneeling on the pavement, head tilted up toward the woman before him. She had a hand on his forehead, as though offering him benediction, and was looking at him with such tenderness that his hearts clenched.

He jerked away, staggering to his feet.

‘No,’ he said, backing away and staring at her in disbelief and horror, tamping down the parts of him that yearned to do the exact opposite. ‘No, that can’t…I would never…not after…’

He refused to believe that he would allow himself to have _that_ with anyone, not after the War. 

Or that he would seemingly get over the loss of his entire species, not centuries after losing them as he had thought, but within a mere year; that an ordinary human would have the power to make him do that was terrifying.

‘Doctor,’ she pleaded, sounding miserable as she followed him, trying to calm him as though he was a frightened animal.

‘I don’t deserve…not after what I’ve done,’ he rasped. ‘Billions of lives, gone…Children…!’

‘To save countless others!’

‘As if that makes it better?!’ he roared.

‘No, it doesn’t! But better to have lost billions of children than an entire universe to the Daleks!’

He continued to back away from her, shaking his head.

‘I won’t turn you into that,’ he hissed, memories of a great and terrible goddess in gold flickering through his memories. ‘I won’t let you become that for me, Rose Tyler. For a murderer.’

Her true name, spoken out loud, seemed to momentarily jar her, but she recovered quickly and stared him down. “We’ve had this conversation before. When we first started travelling together, I told you –’

He shook his head, no longer capable of forming the words. He wouldn’t let this future come to pass. He wouldn’t let her become someone to him that he would gladly sacrifice everything for. He had already given enough, hadn’t he? To lose himself to that kind of connection was unthinkable. No, better to change that future when he met her for the first time, leave her in a normal life and wander by himself.

As though sensing his thoughts, she spoke again. ‘You can’t stop it, Doctor.’

‘I can.’

‘It’s fixed,’ she told him sadly. ‘If you try to stop it, the universe will end.’

‘It’s already almost ended several times over,’ he shot back. ‘I can’t see the difference not travelling with some twenty-first century human could make.’ He tried to modify his tone into something more apologetic. ‘You won’t even notice it change. And you’ll have a better life, if you don’t know me. That’s all anyone wants, right?’

‘Not me,’ she insisted determinedly. ‘I told you once, I’ll tell you again – I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’

Her words were softened now, soothing and trying to comfort him.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he insisted, mind made up. ‘I’m sorry.’

Something like resolve formed in the set of her jaw.

‘…Me too.’

It was a sign of how new he was in this body that he didn’t react as fast as he should have when her hand snapped out. She struck the sensitive nerve cluster in his left shoulder before he could move away. He had just enough time to be amazed that she knew how to hit so as to just knock him out instead of causing him excruciating pain, before he was backwards on the pavement.

The version of himself she knew must have trusted her immensely to show her that particular Gallifreyan weakness.

‘I can’t tell you what you want to know, because you didn’t know anything about it back then,’ she whispered contritely. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away, and he felt unconsciousness threatening as his pulse slowed and oxygen deprivation set in. ‘I can’t explain what we were – are – and why because even I don’t know the answer to that. But…I can point you in the right direction for you to find out for yourself, and to…to keep a paradox from happening.’

His vision was going dark as he watched her bring out a small canister. 

‘Mnemosine recall-wipe vapour,’ she explained to him morosely, and understanding set in. ‘I got it from a…from a friend. It works on you, no ill-effects. None of this will have happened for you.’

Instead of administering the drug, though, she leaned in close and pressed her forehead against his own. The smell of human woman and time filled his senses for an instant before he felt her lips brush quickly against his own.

‘I missed you so much,’ she confessed. ‘Any you…but this you especially.’

She straightened up and brought the canister round, and the last thing he heard before she depressed it and he was surrounded by a cloud of vapor was, ‘I’m sorry – I’m so sorry, my Doctor.’

· ΘΣ ·

The Doctor felt his awareness leech back to him, along with the use of his senses. Hearing was the first thing he regained, although comprehension lagged a little.

 ‘– leave ‘im alone, ‘e’s just some drunk –’

‘What if he’s hurt an’ needs to go to hospital?’ He knew that voice, didn’t he?

‘Someone else’ll deal wif ‘im. C’mon, ‘e could be one of them mental cases –’

‘Just hold on, yeah?’ the second voice, the one that was familiar, suddenly got closer. ‘‘You alrigh’, mate?’

He frowned, for a moment unable to recall where he was or how he had gotten there, or who was talking to him. With greater effort than it should have taken, he managed to open his eyes. The surroundings were passably familiar to him – the Estate near where he had landed the TARDIS.

Yet he wasn’t actually near the TARDIS now; no, he appeared to be sitting on cold, wet pavement, propped up against the side of a building.

As he squinted, trying to make his eyes regain their usefulness, he was able to recognize the young girl from earlier. The mouthy one he’d snapped at.

‘I said, are you alrigh’?’ she repeated.

‘M’always alright,’ he grunted, although it came out more as a garbled mess of syllables. 

What the hell had happened to him?

The last thing he remembered, it had been midday, yet now the sky was dim and the winter sun was a rising shape behind the London estate. There was someone there, standing over him; someone passably familiar.

Had he blacked out? It had happened once or twice in the time directly following his regeneration, but he had thought he would have recovered from that particular symptom by now.

He hoped it wasn’t a quirk of this body. That was all he needed in addition to everything else: fainting spells!

‘ – you even listenin’ to me?’ the little chit was saying, hands on her hips and brows wrinkled.

‘No,’ he told her honestly.

‘Righ’, well, forget I said anyfing,’ she huffed and started to back away.

‘Thought you told me to sod of anyway?’ he called after her, causing her to pause.

‘Yeah, well,’ she shuffled her feet uncomfortably, glancing back to where her friends were all hovering and watching him like they were daring him to try anything. ‘Was yesterday, wasn’ it? S’Christmas Eve. ‘Aven’ seen you around ‘ere before today, so I guess you’re new. Figured I should tell you there’s a shelter up the street, so’s you don’ ‘ave to stick around in the cold.’

It was a haphazard gesture, but the kindness in it – in her, despite his behaviour to her – touched him. He felt bad about how he had spoken to her earlier.

Obviously she was a latchkey child, and making do with what she had. Despite her wariness, she’d offered him a bit of kind advice and he’d rebuffed her in the unkindest way. If he was one of many strangers to treat her badly, and especially at Christmastime…

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘S’nothing,’ she told him, offering a guarded but still present smile. ‘An’, y’know…they’ve got lots of jobs posted along the high street. Respectable, like. Reckon you just need a bit of a shave an’ you’d be a whole new bloke.’

‘Maybe,’ he grunted, finding himself running a hand through the long, unkempt hair.

‘My mum says s’called reinventin’ yourself. Says s’what you’re supposed to do when you get a bit of bad luck,’ she continued. ‘You change yourself, you make your own luck.’

‘Smart woman, your mum,’ he remarked.

‘Yeah, a bit,’ she grinned. ‘But don’ tell her I said so.’ She continued to head back to her friends, before turning around one last time and throwing a, ‘Happy Christmas’ over her shoulder.

‘…Happy Christmas.’

He watched her go, re-joining her friends who nudged her shoulders and laughingly told her off about chatting with the mad homeless man. She was a brave little thing, and had a good heart, in spite of what he’d thought at their first meeting.

Looking around the estate, he could only imagine what kind of a hard life she had had…and would have. Probably a child like her didn’t get much handed to her, at least nothing without some kind of string attached to it.

_‘Don’ got a bike_ ,’ she’d told him earlier. ‘I _’m way too old to believe in Father Christmas.’_

There was a red bicycle stashed somewhere in the TARDIS, a model from around this time period. He might not have any plans to enjoy the holiday on this night, but he could at least ensure that one young girl of the Estate might.

It was a far cry from saving the universe, but somehow it felt just as important.


	5. Chapter Four: Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** After bringing Rose back to London after watching her planet explode, the Doctor awaits an answer to whether she will continue travelling with him...and is tempted to simply cut his losses and run away once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Takes places directly after _The End of the World_ and before _The Unquiet Dead_.

**_ The Shortest Life _ **

**_by_ ** **_ErtheChilde_ **

_‘This is who I am, right here, right now, alright? All that counts is here and now, and this is me!’_

**FOUR**

Messages from the psychic paper usually resulted in foiling alien invasions. They didn’t normally lead to eating lunch in a hole-in-the-wall chippy in Dagenham across from a bottle-blond.

Except, it seemed, when it came to Rose Tyler.

In which case, it apparently resulted in both.

‘That’s disgusting,’ he told her conversationally, as if he were merely commenting on the weather.

Rose paused, bottle of vinegar poised over her plate of chips, and raised an eyebrow at the Doctor. Her brown eyes sparked gamely, and she looked about ready to snap back with a spirit defence of her condiments. 

Upon meeting his gaze, however, she merely grinned, and questioned, ‘Says who?’

‘Says me,’ he answered matter-of-factly. ‘Perfectly good chips and you’ve made ‘em all…soggy and bitter. You know, that’s a crime on at least a dozen different planets?’

‘Yeah? Name one!’ she challenged, and then adopted a mock sneer. ‘Oh, no, wait – let me guess – the planet _Spud_.’

And looking ridiculously pleased with herself, she shoved a handful of the sodden potato wedges into her mouth. Although he had drawn his face into an expression of revulsion, the Doctor couldn’t help the amusement and slightest bit of fascination in how she was eating her lunch.

‘Nah, Spud’s a star system, not a planet. And what’d be the point of rattling off names to you? You wouldn’t recognize any.’

‘Well, you could always take me to one,’ she suggested lightly. 

‘Could do. If you fancy acidic atmospheres and carnivorous bipedal plants.’ He paused, another thought occurring to him. ‘Then again, maybe that’s why soggy chips are outlawed in the first place. Adds too much to the atmospheric acidity index…’

‘And what makes you such a con…connoss…’

‘Connoisseur?’

‘That’s the one! What makes you one of those over chips? I figured aliens ate grass or metal or linoleum.’

‘Do I look like a rodent?’ he complained, grabbing a chip from his own blessedly vinegar-free basket. 

‘Hm…more like the character from _The Muppet Show_. You know, the blue one?’

‘Oi!’

But there was no malice to either of their words, and she was grinning at him in that genuine, open way that he’d already gotten used to, the one which made it impossible not to grin back.

The same way it was impossible not to feel perfectly natural sitting with her, laughing and chatting after having both saved the world and watched it burn in the span of twenty-four hours. 

The Doctor was amazed at the easy, familiar banter between them and even more by the sense that he had known this strange little human for ages instead of near two days.

In a way, he had.

It hadn’t been very long for him since he left 1998, only to exit the TARDIS in the exact same physical locations several years later. Beyond being annoyed at being stuck in London once more, he had worried that there actually was something wrong with the TARDIS. Ever since the final shockwaves of the Time War, her navigational systems had been faultier than usual.

He’d powered everything down and run various diagnostics, and when the TARDIS started shocking him in annoyance at being prodded too much, he’d forced himself to catch a few hours of sleep. Upon waking, he had decided to take the mouthy blond girl’s advice to “reinvent himself” by shaving off the greasy ranks of hair and beard that he hadn’t bothered with before. 

It after he was finishing up that particular task and entered the console room intending to try for the Mestophelix Galaxy again, that he’d noticed his psychic paper lying near the Time Rotor. He hadn’t put it there – that he could remember – nor was he responsible for the rather cryptic message that flashed at him when he picked it up.

_‘Henrik’s Basement, Autons, 8pm.’_

Autons meant the Nestene Consciousness was up to its usual tricks. He hadn’t really had a choice but to investigate, what with there not being anyone else to do it. And so he had set off, not out of simple joy and thrill, but with the simple and clear intent on fulfilling his duty to the universe.

It had been a few explosions and a rescued shop girl later that he had realized the TARDIS was once more meddling in things.

It would never have occurred to him to go looking for the little waif to whom he’d left the red bike not a few hours before, and if it weren’t for the psychic paper ploy he never would have run into her. He hadn’t even realized it was her until she started with the questions. 

On his end of things at least. She didn’t seem to remember him.

He hadn’t tried to remind her, although he’d been compelled to ask her name, if only so he could go back to his ship and demand what was so damned important about Rose Tyler that he was running into her yet again.

The TARDIS had kept mum on that, insisting she’d had nothing to do with it. 

He didn’t believe her for a second.

Yet in spite of his rather vocal objections to the TARDIS interfering, he had still found himself tempted. After meeting Rose, the Doctor found himself considering the idea of travelling with someone else again – if only to take his mind off the grim reality of his lonesome existence. If anything, a doddering human companion could provide a distraction from the feeling of loss.

So he had asked the little human to come with him.

Twice.

Considering how rare it was for him to ask the first time, he was still unsure why he had been so determined that it be Rose by his side. He wasn’t exactly in the proper frame of mind to be around people, let alone a bright child like her.

And he’d already bollocksed the whole thing up.

Brand new companion, wide-eyed with innocence and bursting with excitement at the possible wonders time and space had to offer, and what had he done? 

Brought her to watch her planet blow up.

Nine hundred years of phone-box travel and he still couldn’t come up with a concrete reason why he’d done that. Of all the possible first trips he could think of – from the glass pyramid at San Kloon to the terrible beauty of Women Wept, and he’d brought her to watch her sun expand and roast her world.

Had he been trying to make a point to himself and her? Trying to get the destruction of a world they both held dear out of the way so that nothing could ever seem as horrible? Was it because he had wanted her to understand what had happened to him? Had he wanted her, on some level, to know what it was like to watch your home reduced to dust? 

If that was the case, it was more than selfish – it was self-defeating. Almost as if he was trying to get her to leave him alone.

Which made no sense, considering he had gone through the trouble of asking her twice to come with him; from the moment the elevator doors closed and she started in on the questions, he’d recognized that she had the potential.

Of course, she did haver her short-comings, she was only human after all. 

She was quick to anger, like a child, and had the maddening black-and-white sense of right and wrong that many of her generation and time period had; a strong sense of how the world should work, despite having not experienced very much of it. And she had the self-righteous, entitled air of human from her era – that much had been clear at her indignation at having the TARDIS “mucking about” in her head.

But she was smart!

Dozens of companions he’d had, and none of them had ever asked about the translation circuits on the first going off. Everyone naturally assumed the rest of the universe spoke the King’s English, but not Rose Tyler. 

And she didn’t shy away from hard subjects, either. 

He had been amazed at how easily she had wrapped her head around the concept of her mother being both dead and alive at the same time. Most humans had a problem with such a…Tralfmadorian way of thinking, to use old Kurt’s words.

More than that, she was brave. Not only in the spur of the moment, swinging on a chain over a vat of molten plastic, but in the face of something much more dangerous. 

When offered a glimpse of the darkness within him, she hadn’t blinked. He’d lost his temper with her and she hadn’t even flinched; in fact, she’d yelled back at him, demanded point blank who he was and he had somehow known that it was more than the haphazard question so laughingly shrugged off throughout his entire life. She hadn’t wanted a name, she had wanted the measure of him.

And he’d told her. Or, near enough, anyhow.

Told her about who he was, now, in this moment with the desperate hope that it would be enough, because he couldn’t go back to being the man he had been before.

He wondered now if he had damned her with even that tiny scrap of knowledge. 

As she sat across from him now, chewing thoughtfully, he tried not to think about the fact that she had never answered his question…of whether she wanted to go home. 

Seemingly sensing his attention, she cocked her head to one side and asked, ‘So what is it you’re a doctor of?’

‘Oh, everything and nothing,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘Whatever captures my fancy – Ping-Pong, card castles, caseiculture…’

‘So you’re not a _proper_ doctor, then.’

‘Sure I am! Even studied medicine all formal-like in the nineteenth century,’ he told her, pretending offence. ‘Been helping you lot figure out the latest life saving techniques for ages. Cardio pulmonary resuscitation? That was me. Gave Safar and Elam the idea for it. Sort of had to, though – I was the only one able to breathe at the time.’ He thumped his chest. ‘Respiratory bypass.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Means I can go without oxygen for longer than a human can.’

Rose’s eyebrows rose in amazement. ‘Cos you’re alien.’

‘Yeah.’

‘But if you’re alien, how comes you look like a human?’

The question was posed with the innocent curiosity of someone genuinely interested to hear the answer, rather than the wary suspicion he sometimes encountered when people found out he didn’t share their species.

‘On the contrary – you’ll find you lot look like me.’

‘You’re so full of it!’

‘Nah, it’s true! My people were around trillions of years before yours.’

It was a wonder that it didn’t hurt as much to say that as it usually did.

‘Hang on, you’re saying you come first? Then what’s up with Darwin and evolution then? I remember that much from school…’

Whatever manner of speaking suggested about her, there was no doubt she was clever; he couldn’t help the strange rush of pride at that. ‘S’a bit complicated for a primate like you to understand–’

‘Hey!’

‘– but basically mix in life spores and ancestor cells and cosmic luck, and you’ve got literally billions of different species that got their essential genetic blueprint from us.’

‘So other than the respirat… _thing_ …you’re just like us?’

‘Never said that, did I? Blueprints are just guidelines. My physiology’s vastly superior to yours. Imitations are never quite as good as the original.’

‘Oh, yeah? That why your hands always feel like you stuck them in a snow bank?’ she teased. ‘I’m surprised I haven’t got frostbite off you.’

‘Wear gloves,’ he suggested.

Rose sniggered, and leaned back, cocking her head to one side. ‘What else is different? Do you glow or shoot spikes from your wrists or anything?’

He shot her a pitying look. ‘Read a lot of tabloids, do you?’

‘It’s what always happens in the films.’

‘If you believe any of those, I wash my hands of you,’ he told her, then considered, ‘Though there’s something to be said for Lucas, on occasion.’

‘So no tentacles or extra eyes hidden away?’

He shrugged. ‘Got two hearts.’

‘You never!’

‘No, really, see?’ 

And before he really thought it through, he had reached across the table, seized the hand that wasn’t dripping with grease and vinegar and pulled her forward to press her palm against the left side of his chest. After ensuring she felt the slow, rhythmic beat there, he moved it to the right.

The gesture seemed to surprise her, but it was nothing on the sudden sense of wonder he felt. Although he had meant for it to be a casual demonstration, there was something significant in the feel of her palm against the barrier of his jumper. As seemed to be the case whenever he held her hand, warmth spread from her palm and through him in a way that had nothing to do with body temperature.

For her part, Rose momentarily stared at the spot where her hand rested, open-mouthed. 

‘Blimey! Anything else you got two of?’ she asked weakly, and then her cheeks flushed with colour and she pulled away.

He ignored the part of him that immediately mourned the loss of contact. ‘Most of what you’ve only got one of.’

Something passed across her face, like she wanted to ask another question, and her cheeks went even darker and she cleared her throat.

‘So, why a…Police Public Call Box?’ she asked, clearly changing the subject. ‘Not exactly the best disguise for a spaceship, is it?’

‘I’ll have you know it’s an excellent disguise for a space ship,’ he retorted, and then looked sheepish. ‘Besides, the TARDIS chameleon circuit got stuck sometime in the sixties and I’ve not managed to get it unstuck yet.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘And the telepathic field? The one the ship makes? That mean you’re talking alien at me right now?’

‘No, I’m speaking English.’

‘You actually know English?’

‘I know over five billion languages, ‘course I know English!’

‘And you learned it in Manchester?’

‘‘Course not. I learned it on Iwa – tiny little planet thousands of light-years away from ‘ere. Got ‘em out of a spot of trouble with some fox-people…’

‘So they spoke like they was Mancs?’

‘Bit fixated, aren’t you?’

She shrugged unrepentantly. ‘Just trying to understand.’

He nodded approvingly at that.

‘Well, I don’t always speak it the same. This time around, I knew someone up in Levenshulme, liked his way of speaking, so I sort of adopted it. Reckon it suits me, don’t you think?’

He didn’t especially feel like going into the intricacies of the genetic lottery that was regeneration right now. In fact, if he had his way, Rose Tyler would be a long distant memory before he ever had to explain the concept to anyone ever again.

‘So you could talk like me?’

‘Fink I could, yeah, if I fel’ like i’,’ he offered, slipping into an exaggerated facsimile of her own London accent. She let out a delighted laugh at that, and he switched again, this time to a Scottish brogue, ‘An’ I spent a decent stretch o’ time sounding like I came from Dunoon.’

‘That’s amazing,’ she said. ‘You actually sound it.’

‘Well, I would, wouldn’t I?’ he countered, settling back into the accent he had regenerated with; it felt more natural on his tongue. ‘Speak a language long enough, s’easy to become multidialectal. Besides, whatever minute trace of my mother tongue that I might still have, the TARDIS translation circuit eliminates.’

‘Why?’

‘To make people blend in. Never know when you’ll end up on some planet where you can be executed for improper pronunciation.’

‘So right now, we’re talking in English and I can hear your accent, but if someone from, say, France were to talk to us right now, they’d hear us in French cos of the TARDIS?’

‘Yep. And probably in two different regional dialects, too – say, Parisian and _patois_. Would depend on where they were from and how the TARDIS interacted with their brain.’

‘Might be useful for me, then – I’m horrid at saying foreign words,’ she confided. ‘I can’t even do a believable Bond villain. Mickey’d always make fun of me.’

Something passed over her face at the mention of her boyfriend, and suddenly worried she might insist on checking in on him, he hurriedly distracted her. ‘Well, go on then.’

‘Hm?’

‘Show me. Bet I’m a better judge than anyone else.’

‘Nah,’ she demurred. ‘S’really horrid.’

‘You brought it up. Wouldn’t’ve done if you didn’t want to show off.’

‘Just cos _you_ like to pretend like you’re all impressive–’

‘Thought we established I _am_ impressive?’

‘Git.’

He folded his arms across his chest and shot her a measured glance, even though he knew there wasn’t really anything he could threaten her with to make her comply. He was the one who wanted her around, after all. 

But still, she groaned theatrically and rolled her eyes. Glancing around to ensure the chippy was still as empty as it had been since they got there, she announced _sotto voce_ , ‘ _Vee_ _haff vays off makink hyu tok_!’

The roar of laughter that escaped him was almost as surprising as the discovery that she was, indeed, _that_ bad. The laugh started in the vicinity of his belly and rolled upwards, sending his body into paroxysms of surprised enjoyment.

Rose was staring at him, mouth parted in surprise – or somewhat pleased indignation, he wasn’t sure – at his reaction. It made him laugh harder for some reason.

Until realization hit him and he stopped mid chuckle.

He hadn’t truly laughed since Gallifrey. He had been sure he had forgotten how.

How could there be anything that he found funny anymore? Especially something so tried and contrived as a bad impersonation?

She seemed to sense the sudden realization, because her expression sobered. There was a brief flash of sympathetic curiosity across her face, but it disappeared quickly as she looked away. She seemed to sense his sudden vulnerability, because she cleared her throat and folded her hands in front of her.

‘So…to business, then?’

The subject change was as sudden as it was appreciated, and he only managed a slightly confused, ‘What?’

‘Well, the way I figure, if we’re going to travel together, there’s some stuff I need to know first,’ she went on.

He felt his expression turn guarded. ‘Oh?’

‘Well, yeah, any sensible girl interviews a possible travel mate before committing,’ she told him, mock-serious. ‘Got to make sure you can keep up, yeah?’

‘Oh, so now I’m to be _your_ companion?’

‘Yep.’

‘Disregard the fact it’s my ship we’ll be traveling with.’

‘Minor technicality.’

‘So all the questions since we got here wasn’t any of the “stuff” you need to know?’

‘Nope,’ she grinned. ‘That was just me making conversation over lunch. Being polite.’

‘Oh, naturally,’ he granted, amused.

‘C’mon, Doctor – if we’re going to travel together, don’t you want to know more about me before?’

‘Nah. Takes all the fun out of discovering it for myself.’

‘You can’t just plod around space and time with someone you only just met.’

‘Can too – have done,’ he pointed out. ‘Within the last hour, or weren’t you paying attention?’

‘Well, yeah,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘Huge success, that. But what if it turns out we don’t get on? People get sick of each other all the time when they go on holiday and by then it’s too late to fix it.’

‘Then I bring you back,’ he shrugged. ‘No harm done, I can bring you back the same time you left. No one but you’d know the difference.’

‘Still. I’d like to know a bit more about you than the fact you come first in jiggery-pokery and you eat chips.’

He gave an exaggerated put-open sigh. ‘Alright, you get three questions.’

‘Three?’ she repeated. ‘Why three?’

‘Well, it’s always three,’ he pointed out. ‘Fairy tales, quests, wishes…it’s a powerful number in the entire galaxy. Noblest of all digits, and all. Well, except nine, but that’s a whole different story.’

‘You just don’t want to answer more than three.’

‘Well, we’d be here all day if we did that,’ he scoffed. ‘Places to go and people to see and all. Whole point of travelling is not sitting around _talking_ ‘bout travelling.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Rose interrupted. ‘Three questions.’

He still thought she was utterly mad, but had to admit he was a bit curious. ‘Go on.’

‘Hold on, would you?’

‘Time’s wasting.’

‘I’m trying to think of something to ask.’

‘Oh, well, we’ll definitely be here all day then.’

‘You’re gonna get a slap!’

‘Violent species, you primates.’

She narrowed her eyes in calculation as she settled on the first. ‘Is your name actually “Doctor”?’ she asked. ‘Like, did your parents call you that?’

‘’Course not,’ he answered with false cheer. ‘It’s the name I chose. My real name’s about thirty-nine syllables long and without decades of study you couldn’t even begin to pronounce it.’

‘Really? Oh, well, this I’ve definitely got to hear,’ she grinned at him.

The false cheer became sad before he could get control of himself.

To her surprise his expression became guarded and sad once more.

‘You can’t know it,’ he told her flatly.

‘Why not?’

‘Cos it’s my business. Can’t just tell anyone.’

‘It’s just a name!’ 

‘It’s _my_ name,’ he pronounced, standing firm. ‘It’s not some random word that got picked out of a baby book or chosen cos your mum happened to be standing next to a garden one day.’

Rose frowned at him and crossed her arms, ‘Mine at least makes sense, though. Yours isn’t really a name, is it? It’s a job.’

‘No, it’s a job that’s based on a title. Which is based on a word. Which is based on my name.’

Rose blinked. ‘How’s that work?’

‘Oh, I helped out a bunch of Latini near the Tiber river a couple thousand years ago in a peninsula far away,’ he explained. ‘Nice people. Really liked stallions and fire, usually combined…Anyway, went back to visit a few centuries past and found out they’d named a verb after me. _Docere_. It’s where your word ‘doctor’ comes from.

He nodded his head in his self-satisfied way, glad to have avoided the question and changed the subject at the same time. 

Or so he thought.

 ‘Alright, you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I mean, we only just met and –’

‘It’s nothing to do with trust, if that’s what you’re on about,’ he told her pointedly. ‘I already trust you, Rose Tyler. But even if I wanted to trust you with this, I couldn’t.’

How could he tell her that where he came from, one’s name was their life story? It was given at birth and prophesied everything they were going to do in their entire existence. Sure, human words had power – but how could he make her understand a word in a language that somehow captured everything? Everything one was, had been, would ever be and could have been? A word that encompassed one’s inner darkness and light, gifts and shortcomings, everything they would ever love and despise, everything they would do…all of that in one word. One name.

His eyes snapped suddenly to hers and he realized from her wide eyes and parted lips that he had said all of that out loud. At his pause, she met his gaze and he held it.

‘Now imagine that power in the grasp of someone with bad intent,’ he told her softly. ‘Someone like Cassandra.’

She shivered, but whether that was from his words or something in his eyes, he didn’t know.

‘So…you can never tell anyone? Not ever?’ she asked, her voice small and heartbreakingly sympathetic. 

‘Once there would’ve been an exception if I…but that’s no longer possible,’ he said, dismissive and then suddenly sat up straighter, intending to change the subject successfully this time. ‘Well, s’ppose it’s my turn now?’

Rose started, brought up short by the sudden change in mood. ‘Thought you said this was a waste of time?’

‘It is, but it might as well be an equally weighted waste of time. If you get to ask me random, pointless questions, I can do the same.’

‘Well, when you put it like that,’ she deadpanned.

He deliberated for a moment, and then asked, ‘Do you take plasters off slowly or rip ‘em quick?’

Her jaw fell slightly, obviously having not expected that. ‘What?’

‘You heard me,’ he said cheerfully.

‘What’s that to the price of tea, then?’

‘Doesn’t matter. It’s my question, are you going to answer it or not?’

She shook her head, feeling her mouth tugging upward despite herself. ‘I do ’em quick. I don’t like being in pain longer than I have to.’

‘Good rule to have.’ 

She looked like she wanted him to elaborate, but visibly stopped herself. Instead, she ploughed on with her questioning.

‘Out of everywhere you’ve ever been in the universe, what’s the most amazing place you’ve ever visited?’ she asked. She had wanted to ask what his favourite place in the universe was, but given the destruction of his home, that might have been too tactless a query.

‘Earth,’ he said immediately, only slightly surprised how easily he had come to that decision.

Rose raised an eyebrow, apparently having expected something else with an exotic or unpronounceable name far across the galaxy. ‘Really?’

‘Oh, yeah, brilliant planet, Earth – so colourful and diverse in terms of species and geography,’ he told her honestly.

‘But you brought me to watch it blow up,’ she pointed out.

He winced.

‘’Least now you know you can literally survive the end of the world,’ he joked feebly.

‘I guess,’ she admitted.

‘Besides, Earth culture and values have been carried by humans and other sentient species to the far reaches of the universe, you know? You lot have so much personality and ingenuity, despite your inadequacies, and you’re always reaching for the stars – and with the exception of folk like the psychotic flap of skin we just met, you learn from your mistakes. Not a lot of species are able to do that.’

‘I’m sure there’re loads of planets out there that’ve done that, though. And they’ve got to be a lot prettier or more interesting than ‘ere.’ 

‘Oh, sure there are – but do any of ‘em have cows?’ he challenged. ‘Can’t exactly call a planet my favourite if there’s nowhere to pick up a bottle of milk.’

Rose let out a startled laugh. ‘Oh, of course not.’

‘Was even exiled to Earth once when I was younger. Got a proper job and a car and everything.’

‘You’re kidding!”

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Who exiled you?’ she blurted out. ‘And why would they exile you to a place you actually liked?’

‘That’s two questions, and it’s not even your turn.’

‘Sorry.’ She made a gesture for him to continue.

‘If you were to have any song stuck in your head for the rest of your life, what would it be?’ he asked, a bit exultantly. 

Rose opened her mouth to suggest her current favourite song, and then abruptly thought better of it. ‘I dunno…anything, long as it’s not a song I actually like.’

He stared at her. ‘Why?’

‘Well, if it were a song I liked, eventually I’d get sick of it,’ she explained. ‘I might even start to hate it as much as I used to like it. At least if I started out with one I didn’t like to begin with, I wouldn’t feel like I lost something if I started to hate it.’

This time it was the Doctor who was looking at her with a slightly open mouth, but when she stopped talking he actually beamed at her. ‘Never thought of it that way. Well done!’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Why, was it the right answer?’

‘Don’t be stupid – no such thing as the right answer, only the best answer,’ he corrected her. ‘Speaking of answers, I’ve got one left to give, so go on and ask your last question.’

‘Hm…favourite colour, then?’

He made a face. ‘What d’you want to know that for?’

‘It’s just something you ask people when you’re getting to know them.’

‘Yeah, well, on some of the other planets I’ve been, divulging your favourite colour can get you killed or sold into slavery or thrown off a mountain,’ he told her. ‘I don’t know what you’re going to do with the information. It’s rather like leaving your NI number out for just anyone to look at.’

‘So you’re not going to answer the question, then?’

‘Said it was other planets, didn’t I? Seeing as how we’re on Earth, I suppose it’s safe enough,’ he answered decidedly. ‘Though how it affects who you want to see the universe with, I’ve no idea.’

‘Well, it’s all about psychology, innit?’ she argued, cheeks reddening. ‘Colours can tell a lot about someone’s personality.’

‘If you say so,’ he smirked. ‘Katamelphine.’

‘Gesundheit.’

‘No, that’s my favourite colour.’

‘That’s not a colour.’

‘Sure it is. Just not one you lot can see.’

‘And by ‘you lot’, you mean humans.’

‘Yup.’

‘So what’s it look like?’

‘You wouldn’t be able to imagine. Outside your visual colour spectrum.’ He was grinning again and she realized he was actually having fun teasing her. ‘But go on, then, tell me what it says ‘bout me.’

Rose set her jaw. ‘It tells me you’re interesting and clever and cryptic and a bit of a stubborn tosser.’

Rather than be insulted, his grin widened. ‘Whatever happened to not insulting the designated driver?’

‘Well, considering my last designated driver let a little blue man spit on me and a royal tree call me ‘prostitute’, I’m going to rewrite the rule.’

‘Oi, you’re touchy,’ he rolled his eyes.  She stuck out her tongue. ‘My go then?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Last question, then.’

‘’Kay.’

He offered her the most scrutinizing stare yet. ‘D’you like pears?’

She blinked. ‘Are you serious?’

‘It’s as legitimate a question as your last one,’ he maintained.

‘I guess,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘And no, I don’t.’

He beamed. ‘Fantastic!’

‘Are you going to tell me what your questions were all about?’ Rose asked.

‘Nope!’

‘Why?’

‘Cos that’s the way it is,’ he answered decidedly.

‘Fine,’ she snorted. ‘Be like that.’

‘I am like that.’

She rolled her eyes and stood up. ‘Right, well, I’ll just let you sit there pretending you’re all mysterious and interesting by yourself. I’m gonna go wash the grease off my hands – won’t be a mo.’

‘I’ll have you know, Rose Tyler, there’s no pretending involved,’ he called after her, earning a tongue-touched grin over her shoulder.

He smirked in her direction long after she was gone, the amount of time it took him to realize what he was doing utterly unacceptable. 

That realization crumbled as his grim reality returned to him full-force.  

For just that moment, he had forgotten everything and just been himself. The madman in a box, sharing a fun moment with a companion, not a thought spared to anything else in the universe. Not having to feel the pain and the guilt of his decision infringing on his waking existence. 

And although it was what he had been striving for all along – to keep his mind so filled with something else that the memories couldn’t burn through – the actual act of being able to move on was a bit unnerving. 

Somehow, Rose Tyler had managed what a suicide attempt hadn’t, and that made no sense. What was so special about her?

Other than everything in the past twenty-four or so hours that had convinced him that she was utterly brilliant. 

But he had had brilliant companions before, friends and loved ones that had had the same spark in their eyes as Rose Tyler, the same courage and heart – companions that he had ruined.

What if he ruined her?

In all of his lifetimes, he had learned the hard way that death was the least terrible of fates that could befall someone, and the idea of anything like that happening to Rose…

He swallowed.

She didn’t deserve that. He didn’t know much about her, but he had gleaned enough from snatches of conversation and his own observation to know that her life hadn’t been easy before she met him. What right did he have to make it harder?

He had been honest when he told her his life was dangerous, and she’d seemed keen – but remembering her face after the catastrophe on Platform One, obviously he had got it wrong.

He felt flushed at the memory of that bit of ineptitude on his part. 

If anything could be taken as a sign that he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind for a new companion in his life, that was it. Even his rather obtuse sixth self wouldn’t have been so stupid.

And she hadn’t exactly answered him yet, had she? About wanting to go home or keep traveling with him?

What if this entire business of sitting with him in the chippy was her trying to work out how to let him down gently? She seemed to be the type of person who would do that, not just up and leave.

He frowned in the direction of the toilets, wondering if she was in there practicing in the mirror what she was going to say to him. That’s what girls her age did, wasn’t it? Practice how to deliver unpleasant news – 

He realized he was being watched, and glanced up, meeting the eyes of the portly bloke manning the fryer. There was a knowing leer on his lips, his eyes flitting from where Rose had disappeared to, back to the Doctor. He only looked away when another customer – a round-faced youth – stepped up to the order counter.

It suddenly hit the Doctor what this must seem like.

An older man, sitting in a dive somewhere with a teenager that he was clearly not related to in anyway. The man likely thought the Doctor was having an affair, or at the very least some sort of midlife crisis – 

Rassilon, maybe he was!

When had he ever just let everything come to a standstill so that he could experience something as domestic as a _date_? 

That’s what she’d called it, hadn’t she? 

And though he was fairly sure neither of them had any romantic aspirations towards one another, that was exactly what this had been – a date. Two people, sitting in an eatery, sharing a meal and conversation. 

A date.

His mind rebelled.

No, that wouldn’t do. 

It wasn’t who he was, even before the Time War, nor was it something he intended to allow to happen. It wasn’t even one of the stupid Time Lord rules he was always breaking, either. It was a fundamental affront to his existence!

When in his entire life would he have ever voluntarily sat in a restaurant and… _blogged_ with a young woman? Eating chips and waiting patiently for a companion to get back, instead of investigating the next interesting and dangerous thing to capture his fancy?

He always had to be moving, but right now he might as well be holding her purse for all the use he was!

He needed to get out of there.

Out of the chippy and away from Rose Tyler, and the odd sense of comfort and _domesticity_ that she embodied.

He didn’t need her comfort! He was the Doctor, and he lived in the present with no thought to the past or future! He would keep moving forward, moving on and never stop running. Seeing the good and the bad of the universe with someone beside him, it had just been a whim. Just a strategy to keep him from noticing his loneliness. He didn’t actually need it – it was a crutch.

She was a crutch.

And leaning on her would just encourage him to try to be something he wasn’t, to want something he could never – 

_That’s enough of that_ , he clamped down on that thought, refusing to give it form.

Instead, his eyes flitted once more to the back of the eatery, and then to the exit; he estimated how long it would take for Rose to return. He could easily be on his feet and out the door before she came back, cut through the alley and be back at the TARDIS before she even – 

He was already beginning to slide out of the booth, when a body plonked down in front of him.

‘Bit of a cock move, that,’ a cheery voice pointed out, and the Doctor blinked.

As his wits gathered themselves, he found himself staring at the young man that had just been placing his order up at the counter. 

The young man who was watching him all too knowingly and effectively cutting off his exit.

 


	6. Chapter Five: The Roof of the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger talks some sense into the Doctor, and after a brief altercation, the Doctor shows Rose something amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Takes places directly after _The End of the World_ and before _The Unquiet Dead_.
> 
>  **AN:** Hm. Nine, your Ten is showing a bit in this chapter…and possibly your War :P

**_ The Shortest Life _ **

**_by_ ** **_ErtheChilde_ **

_‘You think it’ll last forever, peoples and cars and concrete, but it won’t. One day, it’s all gone. Even the sky.’_

**FIVE**

‘What?’ the Doctor managed after what seemed like forever, his brain taking an absurdly long time to puzzle out both what the other man had said and the fact that his plan for a quick getaway was falling apart by the second.

‘I said, it’s a bit of a cock move – running out on a good looking girl like that?’ the stranger said, jerking his head toward where Rose had gone off. His voice was as boyish as his face, and with a mild Lancashire lilt. ‘And you – old enough to know better, you are! Just tell her to her face you’re not interested, don’t run off like a coward!’

The Doctor felt his cheeks begin to burn, and had to forcibly slow down his blood flow. ‘Dunno what you’re talking about.’

‘Yeah? So that wasn’t you eyeing the exit for the past five minutes, trying to figure out how fast you were gonna run?’ the young man teased, with only the slightest mettle to his words. ‘Cos it sure looked like it to me…’

‘Listen, mate –’

‘Oswin,’ the youth replied with a cheeky grin.

‘Yeah, don’t care who you are,’ the Doctor scowled. ‘It’s none of your business and you don’t know anything about what’s going on, so if you could step off, that’d be lovely, ta.’

‘Oh, I will – soon as my order’s up,’ Oswin replied with no hint that the Doctor’s displeasure even registered for him. ‘Just figured I’d do my good deed of the day and pass on some lifesaving advice to a grumpy old sod about to make a huge mistake, that’s all.’ He shifted in his seat, like he was getting comfortable. ‘So what, d’you two have a row or something? That why you’re thinking of swanning off?’ ****

‘No, we didn’t have a – hold on, life-saving?’ the Doctor demanded. ‘Sticking your nose into matters you don’t understand is hardly lifesaving.’

‘Know that for sure, do you? Some kind of psychic or something, that you can tell the future?’ Oswin defied. 

‘Something like that!’

‘Then you should know leaving her behind is the absolute worst thing you can do right now.’

His unwanted companion leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and presenting a defiant expression.

The Doctor let out a weary, annoyed sigh, realizing this tosser wasn’t about to leave him alone until he’d said his piece. And something about his demeanour suggested that even if the Doctor got up and walked away, the kid would follow him out of the chippy hollering his opinions at him all the way down the street.

Not the most inconspicuous of escapes, really.

It was likely best to let this busybody say his piece and go on with his life. If he did it soon enough, the Doctor could leave. Rose wasn’t likely to spend that much more time in the toilets anyhow, so best get on with it.

He leaned forward, elbow on the dirty Formica table and chin in his palm. ‘Right then – enlighten me with all the wisdom of your – what, twenty years?’

‘Twenty-seven,’ the young man frowned.

‘Grow a beard,’ the Doctor advised. ‘Anyhow, tell me just how leaving right now’s the absolutely worst thing I can do. Seeing as how you’ve known me for all of a minute and thirteen seconds.’

‘Don’t have to know you to know you’re in a bad place right now,’ Oswin retorted. ‘S’all over your face and the way you hold yourself. A lot of us look like that right when we get back.’

‘…Get back?’

‘From wherever you were stationed,’ Oswin prompted. ‘I know I don’t look it, but it was two tours in Afghanistan for me before I couldn’t take it anymore. Felt like I’d been turned into a machine. Couldn’t even function for the longest time…it’s been three years and I still don’t feel right some days. But it’s the people in your life that help you through it, yeah? And that girl back there? She’ll do that for you.’

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. ‘Have we met before, or something? It’s usually only people who’ve met me who take it upon themselves to offer my unwanted advice.’

‘Never seen you before in my life,’ the young man replied cheerfully. 

‘Really? Cos your face…’ the Doctor trailed off.

‘I’m sure there’s millions of faces like mine – unless you’ve spent much time in Blackpool?’

‘Not since the eighties.’

‘Shame. It’s gotten quite nice.’

‘Fantastic – not only are you a life coach for situations that couldn’t possibly be within your realm of understanding, you’re a travel agent as well,’ the Doctor remarked dryly. ‘Thanks so much for that – bye!’

He waggled his fingers at the irritating young man.

Oswin’s expression changed for the first time into something stubborn.

‘Who paid?’ he asked, apropos of nothing.

‘What?’

‘For your lunch – who paid?’ Oswin prompted. ‘Doubt it was you. You look like you’re a bit strapped for cash, so she’s not here with you for the money. And you’re obviously not shagging, or you’d look less…’ He trailed off, gesturing helplessly at the Doctor. ‘And as for your looks –’

‘Is there a point to this?’ the Doctor growled.

‘Yeah, there is – a girl that looks like that is sitting with you in the one of the dodgiest chip joints in London, not for money or sex or what have you, but cos she actually enjoys your company,’ Oswin pointed out. ‘And you’re gearing up to walk out on her like a coward.’

‘That’s me,’ the Doctor muttered. ‘Coward. Running away every time.’

‘So change that – doesn’t matter how old you are or how much running you’ve done, there’s some points in your life where you’ve got to choose to stay, even if it is hard at first,’ Oswin told him seriously. ‘The important ones.’

‘Oh, and sitting in a dive being told off by a stranger is one of those “important ones”, is it?’

‘Dunno,’ Oswin shrugged, grinning again. ‘Could be, for you. Me, I’m just going a good deed, like I said. Sometimes it’s easier to open up to a complete stranger than someone you care about.’

‘Haven’t known her long enough to care about her,’ the Doctor muttered, although his tone lacked conviction even in his ears.

‘Pull the other one,’ Oswin laughed. ‘You’ll have a hard time convincing any jury of the world of that – otherwise you’d’ve left ages ago.’

‘Could still leave now,’ the Doctor reminded him.

‘Maybe – or you could give it another go,’ Oswin told him reasonably, tracing his fingers along the greasy table where someone had carved the words BAD WOLF. ‘You never know – that girl could save your life.’

 _She already has_ , the Doctor thought.

‘So there you are,’ Oswin chuckled, and the Doctor realized he’d said that out loud. ‘Even a self-important, clever boy like you can be saved by a valiant child.’

The Doctor’s brows drew together at that particular phrase. ‘What?’

If Oswin had intended on offering any explanation, however, he didn’t find out because a shadow loomed over the table.

‘Er – am I interrupting something?’

They both looked up to see Rose had returned from the toilets, and she was glancing between the Doctor and Oswin with a polite yet confused expression.

‘No, I’m off,’ Oswin answered, vacating the seat with a wink at the Doctor and prancing over to the counter to grab his order and then waltzing out of the dive.

‘What was that all about?’ Rose asked, watching the young man’s progression outside the chip shop until he disappeared in one direction.

‘That? Oh, nothing – he wanted to know where I got the jacket,’ the Doctor lied easily. Even he knew it was best not to tell Rose how close he had come to just up and leaving without even a goodbye.

‘Right,’ she responded slowly, clearly not believing him. ‘So did you tell him?’

‘Tell him what?’

‘Where you got the jacket,’ she rolled her eyes.

‘Oh – nah. Wouldn’t’ve believed me if I told him.’

‘What about me?’

‘Well, you might believe me but…well. Story for another time,’ he offered her tight smile. ‘Anyhow!’ he jumped to his feet. ‘All the human stuff out of the way? Got you fed and watered and washed – blimey, it’s like keeping a pet.’

‘Oi!’ she shoved him hard in the shoulder.

‘Well it is,’ he protested. ‘Having to eat every three hours, plus tea? Or sleep a minimum of eight hours? D’you know how many civilizations I save in that time? And don’t get me started on the inefficient waste management system –’

‘Oh my God, stop talking!’ Rose protested, hands over her ears and cheeks turning pink, but she was laughing.

He beamed back. The distraction tactic had worked.

‘Should get back to things, shouldn’t we?’ He held his hand out for her, and damned if he gave a toss what that old busybody by the fryer thought!

There was a flicker of surprise in her face, possibly at the sudden change in subject, but her smile didn’t ebb.

She took his hand and let him lead her from the chippy. ‘Where’re we going, then?’

Destinations and times danced before him, on the tip of his tongue to suggest but he held back because none of them seemed exactly right. It was a restlessness that had possessed him of late, more so than the wanderlust he had had before; before the Wr.

Back then he had been motivated to travel to quench his thirst for knowledge and his cravings for adventures. Now, it was just the constant need to keep going, the ever present hope that he could outrun his past.

It felt almost like…like he was supposed to be doing something important, except he couldn’t for the life of him think of what it was.

He’d noticed the feeling over the course of the past few stops, before meeting Rose and after. Whenever he stepped out of the TARDIS, there was a niggling suspicion that he was looking for something, and when it didn’t make itself immediately available, it felt like he was being told, ‘ _Not here. Not Now. Keep looking.’_

 _Would be nice if I had an idea what for,_ he thought as he and Rose turned the corner of the building and started into the alley he had been planning to escape through. Now, though, Rose was with him and it was an infinitely better way to return to the TARDIS.

The only thing he would have looked for with such fervour if he hadn’t known better was signs of his people surviving. What else could his subconscious possibly be trrying to tell him?

But he knew better than that. Such a thing was impossible. He was alone in the universe, but for the temporary companionship of a teenager from London.

Who was glancing at him expectantly, and he realizes that she was still waiting for him to answer her question.

‘Up to you,’ he told her finally. ‘Where d’you want to go?’

He watched her brow furrow in concentration, a stark contrast to the disbelieving optimism that had been there the first time he asked her where she wanted to go. He could also detect the faintest mixture of hesitance there, which he attributed to their less than ideal first trip.

Despite his own preference for high-energy adventures, it was suddenly imperative that he be able to show her the wonderful instead of just the dangerous. Also, given the fact she had just watched her planet blow up, perhaps staying close by for the next visit might reassure her somewhat.

‘We could keep it local this time, if you want,’ he suggested. ‘Like I said, Earth’s fantastic. You mentioned Darwin before - we could go see the Galapagos Islands. That’s where he came up with all his ideas, with a little help from yours truly. Or we could visit Darwin himself. Fiend for backgammon, old Charlie.’

‘Nah, I don’t really like board games,’ Rose told him. ‘I want to see somewhere…old, and beautiful and…and mysterious…’

‘Well, that narrows it down,’ he drawled, considering her request. ‘We could go see the Great Wall of China. Good place for non-life-threatening running, but where’s the fun in that?’

She laughed. ‘You’re cracked.’

‘Best stick to the modern era, though,’ he went on. ‘I don’t think you’d enjoy watching it be built. Dull, slow work there. Also, a bit morbid. Millions of bodies buried in its foundations.’

Rose made a face. ‘Yeah, that’s a bit…disgusting.’

‘Maybe another day,’ he allowed as they approached a large dumpster. ‘If you’re looking for pretty, we could head to Machu Picchu.  Past or present, it’s always a sight. Though, if you’re keen on the past, better be prepared to possibly end up a human sacrifice. Learned a lot from Exxilons, that lot.’

‘The who?’

‘Ancient species – older than the Earth. A bit like walking pieces of mud. Believe the biggest compliment you could pay someone was sacrificing ‘em to the gods.’

‘Um, pass,’ Rose chuckled uncertainly.

‘Or we could –’

But his suggestion was abruptly cut off by a sudden loud clatter from behind the dumpster. 

The Doctor didn’t even really think about it. He was already moving his body in front of Rose’s protectively, assessing the potential threat.

A rough looking man was now standing in front of them, all unkempt hair and wild eyes, his chest heaving and hands trembling. He stank of alcohol and unwashed human, and his clothes were dated in a way that suggested he’d dug them out of a bin at Oxfam.

‘Who’sat?!’ the man demanded, red veined eyes darting from the Doctor to Rose and then back again. ‘What’choo doin’ ‘ere?’

The Doctor relaxed somewhat, even as he felt Rose’s grip on his hand tighten somewhat. He could feel waves of uneasiness radiating from her, instead of the usual sense of pity and disgust that most humans would feel in the face of something or someone that upset their standards of acceptability. For his part, the Doctor felt the slightest bit of sympathy. 

He had been in a similar state not very long ago, even if the circumstances leading him there were very different. 

‘Sorry, mate,’ he said, adopting a disarming tone and raising a hand in pacification. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you – didn’t know anyone’s kip was here.’

‘D’you got permission to be ‘ere?’ the vagabond demanded. ‘They didn’ tell me no one was coming!’

‘Nah, look, we’re just passing through – be out of your hair in bit,’ the Doctor assured him.

‘No, no, can’t do that,’ the man said, shaking his head and looking at something beyond the Doctor and Rose. ‘Stop the message – they told me I’ve got to stop the message. No one’s allowed to see.’

‘Then we won’t look,’ Rose spoke up, bright despite the hesitation in her voice.

The Doctor grinned. ‘Yep. Keep our eyes closed. Won’t look at any messages.’

‘No, no, no, can’t do it,’ the tramp murmured, shuffling from foot to foot and rummaging around in his tattered coat. ‘They warned me – it’s important, see? End of the world – no hard feelings, yeah?’

And suddenly the vagrant was brandishing a knife at them, his eyes still looking apologetic but now tinged with madness. 

The Doctor didn’t even really think about it, moving his body in front of Rose’s as he assessed the threat of the no longer harmless homeless man.

‘You really think that’s a good idea?’ he prompted. ‘Threatening to people in the middle of the day? Even if you manage anything, you’ll be carted off. Locked up. Won’t be able to guard your message if you’re locked up, will you?’

The man wavered, appearing to consider, and then shook his head.

‘Trying to confuse old Bruce, you are – I knows it – but I’m gonna take you out, cos that’s what they say’s the important thing. Stop the message, save the world,’ he nodded to himself, and then shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

And then he lunged forward.

Rose cried out, more out of shock than fear, as the Doctor backed up and pushed her away from the assailant. 

For someone who was clearly intoxicated and in lamentable health, the vagrant still moved surprisingly quickly. Coupled with the knife in his hand, that would have made him dangerous even to a human with optimal reflexes. To a Gallifreyan with the Doctor’s reaction time, however, the task of diverting the attack was easy. He barely had to expend the effort to catch the knife before it ended up between his ribs, and it would have been nothing but a shift in his balance to disarm the man and then lay him out flat with a right cross.

Least amount of physical damage or exertion for either party, easier recovery time for the poor maddened sod.

But something still remained of the man the Doctor had been in the War – the man who believed in dealing with a threat once and for all instead of offering chances, chances that tempted the weak-willed and dangerous to harm the innocent again. 

Something primal and instinctive, which had flared up even stronger at the sound of Rose’s cry and the sharp scent of fear in the close alleyway, causing his fingers to clench around the tramp’s wrist more firmly than it would have before. 

There was a yelp of pain and the sound of the knife hitting the pavement; the Doctor felt and heard the grind of wrist bones beneath his fingers.

If this man was left to his devices and the voices in his head, what was the stop him from accosting some other innocent passer-by with a knife a few days from now? Maybe even an hour from now? What if he had already taken innocent lives in his mad quest to “stop the message”?

Some harried man cutting through the alley to make it to work on time, or a young woman like – 

A young woman like Rose.

Abruptly, that was the only thought in the Doctor’s mind.

What if he hadn’t been with Rose?

It was an entirely likely possibility. He might have swanned off after all, decided he was doing what was best for them both by leaving her behind, and she might have come looking for him. Might have wandered down that very same alley way, only without him there, she might have been hurt.

Or killed.

Bled out on the pavement in a dirty back alley somewhere, and no one would ever know.

Even though his ability to see timelines was so muted these days he might as well be blind, that image surfaced in his mind in a grotesquely detailed way. He wondered if that might not have been the most probable course of events, and he’d only avoided it because some nosy git had stopped him.

His grip on the man’s wrist tightened and the vagrant cried out in agony, falling to his knees. All it would take was one twist, and he wouldn’t threaten anyone else every again, one quick movement to draw him in and place his hand on his temples – 

‘Doctor!’

It was so tempting, to see what unfortunate quirk of neural imbalance was causing the man’s madness. But he reigned himself in. He wasn’t yet ready to connect to anyone’s mind, let alone another obviously broken individual. He had enough problems with his own demons, but to invite another’s into his head…

‘Doctor! He dropped it, you can let go now!’

He became aware of Rose’s voice in his ear and her grip on his shoulder, as she tried to push past him to see what was going on.

He abruptly let go of the homeless man’s hand and backed away, the world around him rushing back into focus. Shock and shame washed over him as well, as he realized what he had almost just done.

What had happened to his restraint? The centuries of conditioning to keep himself from giving into base, violent tendencies such as this?

He was only grateful that Rose hadn’t been able to see the entire altercation from her place behind his back. That was all he needed, was another companion to see the monster that he could be when he didn’t keep himself in check.

He was dimly aware of Rose ducking beneath his arm, prodding him gently in the arm and chest as if she was trying to find evidence the he had been hurt in the scuffle – _him!_ – and then turning and kicking the discarded knife far under the dumpster where the tramp had been hiding.

The man was moaning in pain, cradling his wrist to himself and muttering unintelligibly now, and Rose bent down in front of him – still at a safe distance, the Doctor noticed – and spoke in a quiet, measured tone. ‘You alright? D’you need to go to hospital? We can take you, if you need?’

And she was glancing up at the Doctor in confirmation of this; he could only nod dumbly in response.

This brilliant and kind and maddeningly strange human girl had just been threatened at knife point, but instead of running away or dialling 999, she was checking to see if he was alright.

‘No!’ the tramp cried out, jerking away from her and scuttling back on his heels. ‘Don’t touch me! They’ll see! They’ll know!’

‘S’alright,’ Rose wheedled. ‘We won’t tell anyone, but you need someone to –’

‘Failed, failed, failed,’ he murmured. ‘The Abomination will be born, and it’s my fault!’

And before either Rose or the Doctor could properly react, he was on his feet and tearing down the alleyway as if the hounds of hell were on his trail.

Rose watched in confusion, other myriad emotions passing over her face – surprise and dismay – before she hesitantly asked, ‘Should we go after him, you think? Make sure someone takes him to A&E?’

The Doctor exhaled wearily.

Once, he wouldn’t have hesitated to try to go after the poor man, to try to help him as well as he could. A brief brush of his mind and he would be able to figure out the problem and whether he could do anything. But he didn’t feel like explaining his telepathic abilities to Rose just yet. She’s expressed enough difficulty with the idea of the TARDIS being telepathic, what would she say if she saw him actively integrating with the mind of someone else?

Not that he was even ready for that kind of contact. It would be too painful.

Besides, even if he hadn’t been telepathically crippled it wouldn’t be the best idea to involve himself in another man’s problems. Right now, he felt as though anything he tried to do would just make it worse. And that was without the possible trauma that the man might suffer if he thought the Doctor and Rose were following him.

‘Suppose we can try to find him, if you want,’ the Doctor told her carefully. ‘But I get the sense he won’t be too keen on a sit-down with the bloke who broke his wrist.’ 

‘I guess…’ Rose said helplessly.

She seemed distracted, and was biting her lip uncertainly now. Likely she was trying to sort through the unlikely progression of events, probably wondering if it was all part and parcel of travelling with him and whether it was worth it or not.

Maybe running out on her hadn’t been the answer after all. Maybe her leaving him behind was what would happen in the end.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, mentally preparing himself.

‘Still want to travel with me?’ he asked. There was a heaviness in the question. ‘I’d understand if you didn’t.’

She made a face. ‘Don’t be stupid! He pulled a knife on us, which could’ve happened to anyone!’

‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’

‘Is it cos you broke his wrist? You were just trying to keep him from hurting either of us. I’ve done worse, you know. There was this handsy bloke at the club, once, I accidentally broke his nose.’

The Doctor opened his mouth to correct her, to tell her it wasn’t the fact he’d broken a man’s wrist so much as the fact he had lost control of his emotion – when her words registered.

‘Hold on – how d’you accidentally break someone’s nose?’

‘Well, I was just trying to shove him back, but he tripped and I sort of…instead of hitting his chest, I hit his nose and – look, it was an accident!’

‘Well, if you’re that dangerous on accident, I’d hate to see what you might be capable of if you did something on purpose,’ he remarked with a trace of their earlier levity. 

Rose rewarded him with a wan smile, and for a short spell they simply gazed at each other speculatively.

‘So…’ Rose began tentatively, biting her lip again. ‘Thought we were getting ready to go somewhere?’

Hope began to tear through the Doctor’s rattled psyche.

‘Well, you never did answer me,’ he returned lightly.

‘Hey, aren’t you the all-knowing, time and space travelling alien?’ she shot back. ‘You’re supposed to come up with the destinations, I’m just along for the ride.’

‘See that? That’s the exact laziness of the human race. Always expecting everyone else to do your thinking for you,’ the Doctor snorted. ‘Even spend inordinate amounts of time creating machinery for that exact purpose.’

‘Yeah, yeah, you’re the superior, brilliant alien,’ Rose snorted, nudging him her shoulder. ‘Bit of an ego on you, ain’t there?’

‘For very good reason, Rose Tyler.’

They headed down the rest of the alley way together, both feigning casualness but both also keeping an eye out for any more encounters with mad, knife-wielding alley denizens. 

The Doctor was also scanning the walls and floor for any papers or written messages that could account for the man’s odd behaviour. There were a few sodden newspapers about, and the walls caked with mostly illegible graffiti, but nothing that the Doctor could take as any sort of message.

 _Must have all been in his head after all_ , he thought ruefully as they passed an avant-garde and slightly sexualized rendering of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. Honestly, humans were so preoccupied with their base urges, it coloured everything.

They headed back through the packed lunch time crowds to where the TARDIS was parked. People were still milling about, completely absorbed in their own everyday lives, and as the Doctor dug into his pocket for the key, Rose started glancing around them in confusion.’

‘Problem?’ he inquired politely. 

She didn’t answer immediately, instead frowning at the people moving around them. Some realization appeared to occur to her. ‘How comes no one notices the big blue box in the middle of the way? Or noticed us when we came out before?’

He grinned at her question, having been expecting it for a while. ‘Perception filter.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It means the TARDIS can direct attention away from itself,’ he explained as he unlocked the door and then gestured for her to come inside. ‘People look at it, but they don’t actually see it, cos the filter gets inside their heads and telepathically tells ‘em it’s not there.’

Rose frowned. ‘More stuff getting in my head, then?’

‘Well, it’s not in your head now,’ he pointed out. ‘You know the TARDIS is there, so it won’t work on you, will it?’

‘But it did before, right? Before I knew about the TARDIS?’

Deciding to head off the inevitable rant about the very human preoccupation with personal boundaries, he closed the door behind them and headed to the centre console. ‘How about Rapa Nui? Or, Easter Island as you’d know it. That’s mysterious. Well, for you lot anyway.’

‘You’re rubbish at changing the subject,’ she informed him, crossing her arms.

‘Am not. Champion subject changer, me! Got awards for it and everything.’

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were tugging upward again and he knew she was going to let him get away with it.

He reached for the nearest lever. ‘So – come to a decision about where you want to go yet?’

‘I dunno,’ she murmured, apologetic. ‘Everything you said sounds brilliant, but…I don’t know anything about them.’

‘That’s the whole point of visiting,’ he pointed out. ‘So you can see it in person.’

‘I know, but…’ she trailed off, and shook her head and seemed to want to try a different track. ‘Aren’t they all places anyone with a ton of cash could get to see? I want to go see some place that shouldn’t even be possible to see. Where it shouldn’t matter if you’ve got money or not. Or…somewhere that I’ve actually heard of that I don’t need to be a genius to understand.’

The Doctor found himself puzzled by the turn of the conversation, wondering where his latest companion’s inexplicable uncertainty had suddenly appeared from. Rather than comment on it, however, he busied himself with thinking of a destination to fit her requirements. After all, if anyone in the universe could recognize a touchy subject in the offing, it was him.

‘Right, then!’ he announced, reaching for the nearest lever. ‘I’ve got an idea of where to go.’

‘Where?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ he told her smugly.

‘Why do I get the feeling I’m going to start dreading those words?’ she teased as the dematerialization sequence began. 

Pretending to be miffed he keyed in a localized jump.

Several seconds later, the Time Rotor came to a rest and he stepped away from the console. ‘We’re here.’

‘Past or future?’ Rose wanted to know.

‘Neither,’ he told her smugly. ‘Present. Outside it’s the sixth of March, 2005 – though, I should tell you now you might not want to go more than ten meters from the TARDIS.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s as far as the Force Field Generator can beam a protective field to regulate oxygen and temperature,’ he told her. ‘Go much farther and you’ll either faint or get frostbite. Or both.’

‘So wherever we are is cold?’ she ventured.

‘Freezing. About thirty below out there right now. But like I said, stick within the immediate area and you’ll be fine.’

‘Did you bring me to the North Pole?’

‘Go and see!’

With a curious smile, she hurried down the ramp and pulled open the door. Brilliant light shone into the TARDIS, momentarily making her little more than a silhouette until his eyes adjusted, but it didn’t affect his hearing. He heard the sharp intake of breath as she stared outside in amazement, moments before stepping out of the doorway.

He followed out at a more leisurely yet quick pace, intent on seeing the look on her face.

Outside the TARDIS, the horizon stretched endlessly in every direction. The sky was at its bluest, slowly darkening to the pitch black of space barely forty kilometres above them. Hundreds of snow-capped mountains surrounded them on all sides, some surrounded by thick cloud cumulous, others bare to the elements. The sound of the wind roaring past them was like the rumble of a jet engine, but the TARDIS’ force field kept it from reaching them. The smell and taste of ozone permeated the area, and snow crunched beneath their feet as they moved farther from the door.

Directly within their ten meter circumference was the highest point on the surface where they stood, decorated with various scraps of coloured material that were half-frozen, half tied together in a makeshift garland. While these testaments to human achievement flapped wildly in the wind, only the lightest of breezes permeated the TARDIS shield.

‘Mount Everest,’ the Doctor announced. ‘Highest point above sea level – well, highest agreed-upon point above sea level. There’s an argument to be made for Chimborazo or Mauna Kea, but you can’t deny everyone’s heard of Everest. Either way it means you, Rose Tyler, are now literally on top of the world.’

‘This is Mount Everest,’ she repeated slowly, like she was trying to make sure. She turned slowly around to take in the panoramic view of the surrounding mountain ranges, moving with a sleepwalker’s dreaming slowness.

‘Yep.’

‘This is Mount Everest, and I’m standing at the top,’ she continued, more to herself than him. ‘Me. A shop girl from Peckham.’ She turned then to look at him, her eyes shining with awe. ‘This is amazing.’

The astonishment and admiration in her tone buoyed him up.

‘Have been known to do amazing from time to time,’ he boasted.

Her mouth quirked at that, and she looked back out on the perilous slopes of the giant mountain. ‘Will the people climbing up notice we’re here? Or are we perception thingied as well?’

‘The TARDIS is, we’re not,’ he told her. ‘Not that it would really matter. Not many climbers in March. Weather’s too unpredictable – see the storm clouds over there?’ He gestured at a dark patch of cumulous off in the far distance. ‘Even if anyone did feel like braving this place so early in the season, we’re just outside of the safe climbing window. No one comes up here later than two o’clock in the afternoon during the regular season, never mind now.’

Rose made a noise of understanding and shook her head, obviously still floored by the scene before her. Even the Doctor had to admit it was one of the nicest views he’d ever seen, and that was saying something.

‘Oh, I’ve got to get a picture of this!’ Rose declared after a while, digging out her phone. ‘This is really brilliant.’ She paused, shooting him a sidelong glance. ‘I can take pictures, yeah? It’s not like anyone will believe ‘em. They’ll probably think they’re faked. It shouldn’t matter, should it? I know they’re real, and that’s all that matters, yeah?’

The Doctor smiled indulgently throughout this excited ramble and reached for the phone. ‘Want me to get one of you at the top?’

‘Yeah!’ she squealed, shoving the device into his hand and scrambling toward the summit.

‘Watch it!’ he called after her when her trainers skid a little on the snow and ice. ‘Just cos you’re protected from the cold and lack of oxygen doesn’t mean you can’t still slip!’

At the summit she turned and posed, flashing a V-sign and grinning with the same tongue-touched smile that was rapidly becoming a favourite of his. He spared a moment to snap the shot of her, and then she was bounding back to him, once again ignoring his warning as she slid down the icy, snowy rocks.

She took the phone, examining the shot of herself with an expression of glee. Then, before he could react, she had caught him in a tight clinch and was angling the phone at them.

‘Oi!’ he protested as the camera shutter snapped. ‘What’s that all about, then?’

‘Well, you’re here too,’ she pointed out.

‘I don’t do photographs,’ he grumbled.

‘Yeah, right. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of you.’

‘Oh, you have, have you?’

‘Yeah!’ Rose answered, and then proceeded to tell him all about a man named Clive Finch, who she had run into while trying to learn what she could about him. As she spoke, her hand found his.

So joined they watched the sprawling vista for a while, even as the shadows became darker and the sun began to dip toward the horizon. It was only as the sound of the wind battering against the TARDIS exterior and the growing darkness of the approaching storm began in earnest that the Doctor squeezed Rose’s hand and drew her back toward the ship. Getting caught in the oncoming blizzard wasn’t tempting in the least.

She turned away from the breath-taking scene and leaned into him as they walked, offering him a cheeky grin. Jerking her chin in the direction of the TARDIS, she asked, ‘So, you going to teach me how to fly this thing?’

 

 

 


	7. Chapter Six: The Timing of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After saving Earth from the Slitheen, the Doctor and Rose find themselves in a bit of jam, once which has the Doctor questioning exactly how their partnership is going to work...and if it even should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Takes places directly after _World War Three_ and before events mentioned in the DW novel _The Monsters Inside_.

**_ The Shortest Life _ **

**_by_ ** **_ErtheChilde_ **

_‘Nine hundred years of time and space, and I’ve never been slapped by someone’s mother.’_

**SIX**

‘This is all your fault.’

The Doctor blinked and turned around from where he had been examining the bare, nondescript walls of his cell; he met Rose’s glower across the room. She was scowling at him, her arms crossed tightly across her chest in a posture that hundreds of years of travelling with females suggested a degree of annoyance.

And, as he had done for those hundreds of year of travelling, he pretended ignorance.

‘How d’you figure that?’ he asked brightly, his voice echoing a bit in the empty holding area. ‘I’m not the one in charge of visitor accommodations, you know. If I was, I’d’ve at least made sure it was painted a cheerier colour. Bit Spartan, this.’

That was putting it lightly. 

The square rooms they had each been shoved into were devoid even of furniture, and in all other ways looked like any number of other holding cells he’d been locked in over the centuries. Concrete, without even a place to lie down, and he could feel air being filtered in from somewhere.

He and Rose were separated by the bars on their respective cells and an aisle of several feet between them, but he knew better than to think that was all that was keeping them trapped there. Upon being escorted to the cells, he’d detected a charged frequency in the air that told him the bars were likely electric.

‘Stay away from there, unless you like the Farrah Fawcett look,’ he’d warned her, and thankfully she’d done so without arguing, though he supposed that was more the shock of the arrest than actual obedience. 

A shock that had obviously worn off.

‘“Fires burning ten million miles wide” he says,’ she deadpanned, clearly not amused. ‘“Hurtle across the sky and end up anywhere,” he says. If I knew we was gonna get locked up –’

‘Well, I didn’t know we would,’ he snorted, defensive. 

Though really, he should have.

It was inevitable, really, that they would be arrested for something. Spending time in a cell was pretty much an occupational hazard. After all, he’d spent most of his life in one prison or another – physical or metaphorical, if he was being clever about it – he just hadn’t thought it would happen so soon in their travelling acquaintance.

‘Riding a ship from the heart of a plasma storm isn’t illegal in any respectable quadrant I’ve ever heard of,’ he pointed out.

‘Apparently it is in this one,’ Rose pointed out sweetly. ‘Besides – that isn’t why we were arrested. You just had to lead the police –’

‘They’re not police, they’re more like the intergalactic equivalent of traffic cops.’

‘Whoever they are, you led ‘em on a merry chase –’

‘Shouldn’t have been able to keep up on at all, I think there’s a lag in the accelerator.’

‘– and then insulted ‘em when they finally did catch up to us –’

‘The TARDIS should be impossible to catch by something so primitive as an Amaranian star-hopper.’

‘– so it’s your gob that’s landed us in here,’ Rose concluded. ‘Meaning it’s your fault.’

‘Oi!’

‘Well, it’s true,’ she huffed unrepentantly. ‘If you hadn’t, maybe they’d’ve given you a chance to get your magic paper out and tell them some brilliant cover story, instead of clapping us in irons once we landed.’

The Doctor scowled. ‘It’s not magic paper, it’s psychic.’

‘Oh, well, excuse me.’

Her tone, like her entire demeanour, was filled with more annoyance than humour. That fact was incongruous with the joking girl he had gotten used to in the past four days, and although he was tempted to comment on it, he knew better than to give her an opening. He had a clear suspicion as to what was causing her mood, and it would be better for both of them if he kept on pretending he didn’t care about it. 

He’d told her not to make things domestic, and getting into a row over her mother’s feelings was about as domestic as things could get.

She’d get over it.

They lapsed into silence, something he was not yet accustomed to doing around her. So far their friendship had been a whirlwind of activity and chatter, and silence seemed to have no place in it. As it was, this one felt false and uncomfortable.

He watched her wrap her arms more tightly around herself; even from his place across the room, he could see goosebumps forming on the skin of her arms. Obviously, the thin cotton of her pink t-shirt wasn’t providing her sufficient protection against the overzealous air filtration system in the space station’s cells and the temperature was affecting her mood.

They had both had their jackets and – to Rose’s surprise – their shoes confiscated upon processing.

‘Considered weapons in some systems,’ he had explained as they were led to the holding cells. ‘Ever since a Tarkinian consul got bludgeoned by a pair of loafers, it’s been part of procedure to confiscate them.’

‘They’ll give them back, right?’ Rose had wanted to know, eyes darting around the station warily. ‘Those were my best pair.’

‘You can find a new pair on the TARDIS.’

‘Yeah, but mine are broken in and not likely to blow up while I’m running for my life.’

He hadn’t even been able to argue that point. Rose had gotten the measure of his life rather quickly, after all. She’d appeared to enjoy it, too, which made this tension between them feel completely out of place.

She seemed to think so too, because she suddenly let out a heavy sigh, not unlike the one she’d given after their argument on Platform One, and shrugged.

‘Guess it don’t matter how we got here,’ she told him. ‘What matters is what we do now, yeah?’

It was an olive branch, however grudgingly given, and he latched onto it with a desperation that once would have embarrassed him. Now, there was no one left to judge him for it.

‘Exactly.’

‘So you’ve got a plan?’

‘Not a one.’

‘But can’t you just…sonic us out?’

‘Could do. If I had it with me. But it was in my coat.’

‘Of course it was,’ Rose sighed.

‘What are you getting your nose out of joint for? There’s no need for a daring escape just yet, I think. It’s not exactly the Glavis mines of Tintinambulus, just your everyday holding cell.’

‘Everyday? Is this actual an everyday thing for you?’

‘More of an every fifth day thing.’

‘Oh, I suppose that makes it alright,’ Rose snorted. ‘So we’re just supposed to…sit here? Until they let us go?’

‘Bit boring, I know, but sometimes that’s just how it works out. Probably have to pay a fine, that’s all.’

‘So you’ve got money.’

‘Nope. Got something better.’

‘Which is?’

‘A banana.’

Rose looked at him as if he’d lost his mind for a moment, and then repeated slowly, ‘A banana?’

‘Yep,’ he grinned. ‘I never go anywhere without one.’

‘Yeah, you’re gonna have to explain that one.’

‘Bit of a shortage of vitamins out his far, which means anything in the fruit department is pretty much edible gold. One banana should be more than enough to barter our way out of here when the time comes.’

‘Makes perfect sense,’ Rose said, though he detected a hint of sarcasm. ‘So where’ve you got a stash of bananas? Cos if they’re in the TARDIS, I don’t think they’re about to let either of us in there to get things.’

‘It’d be pretty useless if I left the bananas in the TARDIS, don’t you think?’ he retorted. ‘What would happen if I got hungry? Nah, they’re in my pocket.’

Rose blinked down at his jeans. ‘Are those bigger on the inside too?’

‘What? No! Not these pockets, my other pockets – which _are_ , incidentally, bigger on the inside.’

‘Other…you mean your coat pockets, don’t you.’

‘Yep.’

‘Your coat, which they took from you when we came in here and which they probably won’t be giving back to you until after you pay the fine?’

He opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. ‘Ah.’

‘So we’re no better off than we were before,’ Rose sighed. ‘What happens if we can’t pay the fine?’

‘Well, it’s a fairly civilized century and species,’ the Doctor shrugged. ‘I would imagine we wait until someone posts bail for us.’

‘But we don’ know anyone here! And no one _else_ knows we’re here!’

‘Shouldn’t matter. Galactic bail bondmanship is common, if a little…suspect,’ the Doctor dismissed. ‘More worried for the TARDIS, actually. Whenever she gets impounded, they always scratch the paint, and that puts her in a mood.’

He didn’t get to hear whatever smart-alecky comment that was no doubt primed on Rose’s tongue, because at that moment one of the officers that had arrested them sidled into the containment area.

The Amaranian was of average height for its species, about a head taller than the Doctor, with vibrant orange hair and eyes that were twice the size of a Gallifreyan’s. Its forest green skin was pebbled like a reptile, yet in its features it more closely resembled a marsupial. This particular one looked rather grumpy, judging by the way the pores on his neck were opened up and stained a sour-looking yellow. 

He was dressed in the dark blue uniform that was standard in many galactic security forces in the Horsehead Nebula, and was fiddling with several small chips connected by a ring, which the Doctor recognized as keys.

‘Ah, you see? Someone posted our bail already,’ he assumed cheerily, pasting a chuffed smile onto his face.

‘Not yours,’ the officer said shortly as he headed for Rose’s cell and began to search for a key chip. He nodded at her through the bars. ‘Just hers.’

‘Cheers – wait, what?’

It was almost never a good thing to be separated from his companion by questionable officers of the law, even if they were only small-fry like these.

‘You, sir, are still facing charges,’ the officer informed him coolly as he finally found the right key.

‘What charges?’

‘Obstruction of justice, for one thing, as well as public misconduct in the form of interrupting a planned event.’

‘What planned event?’ Rose wanted to know, at the same time that the Doctor demanded, ‘How’d I do that?’

‘The storm you disrupted was purchased by a private company wanting to watch it in its entirety and showcase it to its investors,’ the officer told him, bored. The door to Rose’s cell hummed as it opened. ‘The presence of your vessel ruined that.’

‘That’s bollocks,’ the Doctor dismissed, mind whirring to think of a convincing way out of this particular predicament. ‘There’s a perception filter on my ship, no one should have noticed her when we’re travelling on a bad day, let alone a good one. Even if it could be seen on surveillance, it wouldn’t be more than a speck – hardly anything to fuss about.’

‘I don’t know what the whole story is, sir, I’m just doing my job,’ the officer said tiredly. ‘All I know is that they’re seeking damages in court from the pilot, which is you.’

‘Who says I’m the pilot?’

‘You said you were the pilot.’

‘Yeah, I know, just checking to make sure you’re paying attention,’ the Doctor assured him, glancing over at Rose who had yet to make a move to leave the cell.

‘This whole thing sounds daft,’ she declared, eyes flitting from the Doctor to the Amaranian. ‘How’s anyone buy a storm, anyway? S’like those crooks on the telly that try to get gullible people to buy stars they’ll never get to actually see up close.’

‘Same basic principle,’ the Doctor told her.

The officer harrumphed self-importantly and continued, ‘On a related note, there is some concern for the girl’s well-being –’

‘Don’t talk about me as though I’m not here!’ Rose protested, at the same time the Doctor demanded, ‘What? Why?’

‘According to our scans, you two appear to be of different species, and according to galactic statutes she is a minor –’

‘I’m over eighteen!’ Rose objected.

‘– and with the obvious age difference,’ the officer went on severely, as though he didn’t hear her, ‘we’re concerned for her safety. Species trafficking numbers have been up lately on several planets in the area, and considering her lack of identification –’

‘Why’s everyone think I’ve got nothing better to do with my time than kidnap people?’ the Doctor disparaged as the officer gestured for Rose to leave the cell.

Rose hesitated for a moment, and he expected her to dig her heels in and insists on staying put. Considering the fact he was her only way home, the most logical course of action would be to stick together. 

And yet, to his surprise, she bit her lip and nodded in what looked like resignation and allowed the officer to lead her out of the containment area.

‘Rose?’ he asked, but she didn’t even look back at him. ‘Rose!’

The Doctor called after her until she was gone, a frown upon his face as he was once again reminded that there was something off about Rose’s behaviour. Something that had been off since they left the Earth.

And then he was alone in the holding cell.

‘What the hell was that?’ he demanded out loud.

It went against every experience he had with a companion – most would be kicking up a fuss by now – and everything he knew about Rose. She wasn’t exactly the type to meekly follow along with the wishes of anyone just because they said they were in charge, and he would have expected her to put up a struggle about being separated from her only way back home.

So why the quiet compliance?

He couldn’t detect any mood modifiers in the air which might explain her behaviour, and she hadn’t sustained any head injuries from their rather abrupt landing. Unless – 

Unless it was an act.

‘That’s it,’ he muttered to himself, only just holding back a whoop of delight. The girl was likely playing along with everything going on until she could get more information and find a way for them to get out of this mess.

It was a long shot, but if he knew Rose the way he thought he did, she wouldn’t be content just sitting in a cell. And she wasn’t the type to leave a friend in a jam, even if she didn’t completely know the situation. She’d gone along with his bluffs before, maybe she was trying out her own act.

But then…wouldn’t she have given him some indication of that? A nod or a wink or that grin of hers? She’d have found a way to tell him her idea without telling him, because she was brilliant that way.

Yet she hadn’t. 

A nasty feeling at the back of his head wondered if maybe she wasn’t still a bit upset with him. Maybe more so than he had originally thought.

Well, if something _was_ wrong with her she’d picked a pretty petty – and not to mention, dangerous – way of telling him she was unhappy. Yet another human trait he’d come to know in his centuries of travelling with this particular species. Which was why he’d ignored it.

Although…to be fair, even if he hadn’t had an inkling what was bothering her, he would have ignored it. It was what he had always done. And if she had decided to do the very, very Rose thing and outright call him on it, he might have done worse.

His control over his temper and emotions had been tenuous at best since the regeneration, and he’d already provoked one row with her. He’d been lucky enough that she had forgiven and – quite literally – forgotten, but it didn’t erase the fact he knew exactly what buttons to press in order to upset her. 

The manipulative streak of his seventh self was still alive, it seemed. Although now it was more out of self-preservation than any long-term ploys.

He made a face at that, the realization leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

His eighth self had abhorred and disavowed that sort of behaviour, and the…the one that came after hadn’t had the patience, more out of practicality than moral qualms.

But right now, the him standing there in this cell knew that if he was going to be out of sorts whenever Rose was upset, something had to change. Either he had to change centuries’ worth of instinct and behaviour, or leave Rose Tyler behind to a less dangerous life without him.

Honestly, both options were distasteful in different ways.

‘Not that either will matter if I don’t get out of this bleeding cell,’ he muttered out loud, his fingers flexing around the empty air where his sonic should be.

He paced up and down the small expanse of his cell, trying to focus his thoughts on establishing an escape plan. For a run of the mill jail in the middle of nowhere, the security was surprisingly thorough. 

Without his sonic, unlocking the door was impossible, and picking the lock wouldn’t do either – from what he could see through the glass, not only was it on the outside of the cell, but it was one of those Malloup models with isomorphic settings. It could only be opened by the properly encoded chip keys the Amaranian officer had used to free Rose.

And judging by his interaction with the officer before, he had a feeling even his most charming self wouldn’t have been able to talk him round.

Normally he would have managed to come up with some kind of plan by this time, but his thoughts refused to obey him. Relations with Rose were once again heading into territory he was unfamiliar with.

Especially if her silent compliance hadn’t been an act to carry out an escape plan. Doubt gnawed at him again, that perhaps she was weighing her options of how to get back home without relying on him. That she was legitimately angry at him.

Again.

Honestly, it seemed to be a theme with them, and that irked him a way it never had before. In all the important ways, they fit seamlessly into each other’s lives…and then in others, it was almost like entering a battlefield.

There was a communication barrier between them, one he wasn’t sure was caused by their different species, ages or even genders.

He had routinely butted heads with his previous associates, Gallifreyan and human alike, and it had never bothered him. He’d never dwelt on it, secure in the knowledge that his brilliance superseded whatever imagined issue his companions might be having.

But it was somehow different with Rose.

He thought it was maybe because they had been such kindred spirits from their first meeting, that when they did disagree it was more keenly felt. Even when the disagreements were over something as mundane as a sit down with her mother.

He had read the accusation in her eyes even as she foisted that gaudy red pack at him and told him she was ‘signing up’.

He had been trying to pretend he didn’t care. After all, why should he? Obviously it was simply a sign that she was too young and too immature to travel with him, if being away from her mother was such a wrench. Not everyone was suited to this life.

Except, he knew for a fact she was more than suited. She might well have been designed to travel with him. The joie de vivre, the curiosity, the quick acceptance of the dangers of this life…back in the sealed off room at Downing Street, she hadn’t even blinked when he told her he could save the world but lose her.

_‘Do it.’_

_‘You don’t even know what it is. You’d just let me?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

She hadn’t even thought about it. 

Somehow, she understood what most of her species didn’t – that utilitarian truth that the good of the many could outweigh the good of the few, regardless of personal feelings.

Because that’s what it amounted to, really. His personally feelings about the entire situation.

He had started caring without being conscious of it, without wanting to. 

The kicker was, he knew that she cared too, if her tentative suggestions about his possible PTSS were any indication. And the way she was intent on him telling her things about his past – not to satisfy selfish curiosity, though she was genuinely interested, but because it might make _him_ feel better to talk about it – 

Even if she had a point, it wouldn’t help. Besides, where did he get off burdening her with his past deeds? At least, not any more than he already had when he had taken her with him.

But she had _chosen_ to come with him, hadn’t she?

Twice.

He paused in his pacing, revisiting that last thought.

She had chosen to leave her family and her friends and her entire life behind despite her own feelings, to be with him.

The knowledge made him feel a bit breathless, more so when it occurred to him then that he had unconsciously been trying to force Rose to make a choice. 

And not just any choice, but the same one he had made, a choice that would set her apart from her own kind. Perhaps he wasn’t asking her to destroy her people for the greater good, but he was asking her to cut herself off from her family if she wanted to travel with him.

All because he hadn’t wanted to be alone.

Thinking about the matter like that made him a bit uneasy, and all of a sudden he felt a bit of remorse for not bringing other companions home when they asked the first time.

No wonder she was angry at him.

If she was.

Which might not actually be the case. His first idea, about her thinking up an escape plan was likely the reason. He was at least ninety-one percent sure of that.

Honestly, he had never been this indecisive or insecure in all his lives. It was perhaps a small mercy that Rose wasn’t actually in the cell to see it.

‘Which is the problem,’ he murmured, resuming his pacing. 

Secret escape plan or not, he needed to get out of this bleeding call and back to Rose. Preferably before she ended up sold into slavery or causing a riot.

He considered for a moment.

Most likely the latter. She was the daughter of Jackie Tyler, of course.

Another sobering thought.

_‘What if she gets lost?’_ Rose’s mother had challenged him. _‘What if something happens to you, Doctor, and she’s left all alone standing on some moon a million light years away. How long to I wait then?’_

He hadn’t been able to promise that he would keep her safe, not out loud at least. Words had power, and any vow out loud might have been seen as a challenge to the universe. It would have put Rose, and even her loved ones, in even more danger.

Right now, though, he could at least make a promise to himself to get out of this cell and get them back to the TARDIS before something more serious than a speed violation occurred.

Besides, he didn’t much fancy the idea of the amount of paperwork he’d have to fill out when it came time to his trial. He’d avoided UNIT all those centuries for that exact reason, after all.

‘Sod this for a lark,’ he decided. ‘I’m not the waiting around type, anyhow.’

He went back to trying to find a weakness in the cell. The bareness of it was troubling, but he had been in worse. Sort of. He still hadn’t figured out where the air was coming from, as there didn’t appear to be cracks in the wall where it could be coming from. And the energy frequency he heard wasn’t localized over the individual bars in a logical way.

Something about this cell wasn’t right.

He looked at it again. He was missing something obvious.

‘Something obvious – well, obvious to me. I can smell it. Hard not to with this nose, but that’s neither here nor…’ he trailed off as his intent perusal of the bare cell suddenly yielded something. 

A patch of space where the bars met the corner of the ceiling and the wall. That particular corner seemed to vibrate for a moment before going still again. It was as if the air was rippling in tiny, barely perceptible waves which dulled the otherwise sharp edges of the room.

He held his breath a moment, watching it again in silence over the next few minutes.

As expected, within almost six minutes it happened again.

‘Oh – oh, that is clever,’ he muttered, absently beginning to undo his wrist watch. ‘It’s all a disguise. Not a perception filter – would’ve noticed it right away if that were the case. Distinctive telepathic signature, even weak ones. No, this –’ he gestured around the room, ‘ – is something more complex. Something meant to fool the senses of even the most discerning species. Might’ve fooled me too, but bad luck for you lot, my biology’s one of the better models out there, which is why I can tell...’ He spun around and considered his prison. ‘It’s a semi-permanent holographic force field. The thing about holographic force fields, though, is they’ve always got a chink. Usually it’s harder to tell, but this one was easy, know why?’

He trailed off, his excitement resounding in the definite silence of his empty cell. He scowled in annoyance. ‘Oh, well done, Rose Tyler, get yourself carted off so there’s no one around while I’m being impressive. What exactly is the point of you?’

Timepiece in hand, he deftly began to snap off the straps holding the case body.

‘It’s easy to tell, you see, because we’re in the nick of space station. A satellite, to be precise – and those don’t usually have the power to sustain long-term holographic force fields.’ He began to fashion a makeshift slingshot from them. ‘But that begs the question – why bother at all, then?’ He paused to consider it. ‘It’s a holding cell. What would be the point in disguising it? Detainees don’t care what their holding cells look like, they’re not usually kept in lock-up longer than it takes to post bail. A day on average, in most quadrants of the galaxy. From the lack of facilities in here, I’d say it’s even less than that for anyone they toss in here. So when is a holding cell not a holding cell?’

He didn’t wait for his imaginary audience to reply, instead fitting the watch body into his makeshift slingshot and beaning it swiftly in the direction of the force field chink. 

There was a metallic buzz and a minor bang.

The world around him fizzed and flickered, and suddenly the hum of energy reduced itself tenfold. In an instant, the cell around him changed from the generic model he had long since come to expect from rural or poor prisons, to a completely different – yet infinitely more worrying – set-up.

The place was still bare, but in a clinical and sterile way that made the hairs on the back of the Doctor’s neck stand up. There were about half a dozen identical cells lining the small corridor, all of them empty except his. Along the edges of the room he could make out surveillance and monitoring equipment. 

Bright panel lights shone down from above and he could now see the miniscule holes in the white walls that pumped air into the room. Where once there had been bars, now he could see through an apparently translucent screen. It was meant to look like glass, but he still detected a charge there; that meant that the deceptively empty air before him still posed a danger if he decided to disturb it.

‘When it’s a slave pen,’ he concluded grimly. He turned his attention to the camera across the room, staring into the miniscule black screen. ‘That’s what all this is, isn’t it? You lot aren’t keeping a look-out for species trafficking – you _are_ the species traffickers. Perfect cover, really. You stop passing ships and take their crew captive on idiotic charges like speeding – you put them in these cells while they await a trial that will never come, while in the meantime you look for buyers. And they don’t make a big production about things because they figure it’s just a bit of paperwork for them to fill out.’

The grim realization was made about ten times worse by the fact that they’d already taken Rose.

‘You took her first because she’s human – recognizable species, serves its uses and a guaranteed sell – but me, I bet your scanners couldn’t figure out what I am,’ he said, tone dark. ‘So you intend to hold me until you figure out how to make the most profit off me.’ He clenched his fists. ‘Except you made a mistake. Two, really. First of all, you didn’t bother to find out who I am when you picked us up. Or more importantly, _what_ I am. Maybe if you had, you’d’ve known to let us go on our way. Second of all, you took Rose. Might have forgiven you for the first, but the second…well, that’s a different story. If any harm has come to her, you had better start praying to whatever deities you believe in.’

His threat hung in the air, the uneasy silence heavy with the uncertainty of having been heard.

A moment later, though, he knew he had been.

The air had changed.

Along with the oxygen being pumped into the cell through the miniscule vents, he could now detect the sour taste of something else. From the sudden numbness in his nose and tongue, he knew it to be a gas of some sort. Nothing deadly, likely a general soporific meant to knock out any of the hardier species that might have been incarcerated.

Captives were worth more alive than dead, after all. 

His respiratory bypass kicked in, sparing him from unconsciousness as he tried to incorporate this new development into his considerations. If he stayed upright, they would know he was immune to the effects and might begin to dump something stronger into the air.

Unconscious, he wouldn’t be able to help Rose, let alone escape, and that just wouldn’t do. 

He let himself fall to his knees, a ploy to trick anyone watching into thinking he had succumbed to the effects of the tranquilizing gas. In the meantime, his mind raced. It wasn’t the first time he’d engineered and escape on his back, and it wouldn’t be the last.

They might send someone in to check on him, either to ensure the gas hadn’t harmed him or to move him to more secure containment. In either case, he might be able to take advantage of whoever did come, escape the cell and go looking for Rose.

Of course, there was always the possibility they would leave him here without bothering to check on him, arrogant enough to assume the sedative had put him out of commission until they felt like dealing with him. 

In which case, he needed a contingency. If no one came to check on him within the next fifteen minutes, he had to have a plan.

The hum of the energy field barring him from escape caught his attention. 

Charged forcefields were generally problematic, but not impossible. Of course, usually he had his sonic, but he might be able to figure out a way to make due if he could figure out the exact mathematical frequency it was operating at.

The gas was clearing now. Obviously they just intended to give him enough of it to knock him out, not do any permanent harm. That would be the Amaranian species trafficker’s downfall, in the end.

Squinting through half-closed eyes, he tried to identify anything that might be able to help – 

His eyes alit on the case body of his now broken watch – more specifically, the watch face, which was made out of harder-than-diamond alloy.

He could use that to disrupt the electromagnetic pulse of the force field. If he held it close enough to where the key pad to his cell was located, he might be able create a counterpoint to disrupt it. If he could maintain it long enough, he could get his hand through and access the key pad long enough to free himself.

It was a longshot, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. Time was of the essence if he wanted to – 

There was a sudden blaring wail that shattered the silence of the containment area.

Somewhere, an alarm was going off. And for once, it wasn’t the Doctor’s fault.

In fact, he doubted very much that it had anything to do with his attempts at escape so much as the breathless blond who burst into the containment area with a slam of the door, a bundle of leather in one arm and a pair of boots in the other.

‘Lying down on the job? You really are useless without me,’ she quipped, hurrying over to him with a grin on her face and light in her eyes. She glanced around the sterile environment. ‘Huh. Looks a bit more like the rest of the place now. You’re doing?’

Misgivings and doubtful thoughts completely deserting him as she dropped his boots on the ground and began to rummage around in his pockets

‘I’ll have you know I was carefully planning and strategizing a near infallible escape,’ he shot back, rolling to his feet and reaching for the watch face. It was still running, after all, just needed a new strap. ‘If you hadn’t interrupted, I’d be out of here.’

‘Oh, well, in that case, I could leave again. Let you be all clever.’

‘I’ll have you know I was clever, and you missed it all on your own – but for the sake of time constraints, feel free to get me out of here.’

‘Don’t have to worry about time, there’s a distraction going on right now.’

‘Fantastic!’ he crowed. ‘Should’ve known, really, I mean, it’s you – can’t stay out of trouble, can you?’

‘Kettle?’ Rose retorted. ‘You really complaining?’

‘Nope,’ he answered sunnily. ‘Bit amazed, though. Putting an entire satellite station of species traffickers on enough of a high alert that they’ve got an evacuation alarm sounding? And here I thought you’d been caught and sold into slavery already.’

‘Well, it wasn’t me alone,’ Rose conceded, and made a face, ‘Blimey, you weren’t joking! Your pockets go on forever!’

‘Dimensionally transcendental, remember? If you’re looking for the sonic, it’s probably just under the ski mask.’

‘I don’t even want to know,’ Rose muttered.

‘Well, hurry up then. No doubt we’re giving them a show on the security feeds.’

‘Already taken care of,’ Rose assured him. Off his surprised look, she added, ‘Like I said, I had help.’

‘Oh, this I have to hear!’

‘They were getting ready to bring me somewhere, but I ran into this, um, undercover agent for the Shadow Proclamation,’ she explained, missing the way his eyebrows rose at that as she continued to search his pockets.

‘Shadow Proclamation?’ he repeated, frowning. That didn’t make sense at all.

‘Yeah, apparently that species trafficking network the green bloke who took me out of here –’

‘They’re called Amaranians.’

‘Yeah, well, him. He wasn’t so much lying as stretching the truth.’

‘Figured that out myself, yeah, it’s all a front and – are you _still_ looking for the screwdriver?’

‘Sorry, it’s tangled in the ski mask,’ she deadpanned, finally managing to extricate the device. She held it up. ‘How do I use this?’

‘Telepathic interface. Just think “Setting 85”. Unlocks doors. Should apply to the force field keeping me in here. Now come on, get me out of here and then we can be off faster than you can say “Raxacoricofallapatorius”.’

He expected a smile at that, possibly even a laugh.

He didn’t expect Rose to suddenly pause and look him searchingly. 

He also didn’t expect her to square her shoulders and take a step back.

‘Before we do anything, Doctor,’ she stated firmly, seemingly ignorant of the alarms going off in the background, ‘we need to talk.’

The Doctor gaped at Rose, unable to believe what he was hearing. She thought now was a good opportunity to air philosophical differences?

‘Is it really the time?’ he protested.

‘Right now you’re in a cell and can’t go swanning off somewhere if you don’t like where the conversation is headed,’ Rose replied firmly.

‘The conversation’s likely to be the only thing headed anywhere if we don’t get out of here – are you really so petty and stupid that you want to discuss this _now_?’

Her eyes flashed at the jab to her intelligence, but she didn’t remark on it. ‘We can’t go anywhere until the way is clear. My friend’s off doing that now and will come get us when it’s safe.’

‘Oh, you’re _friend_ is it?’ he disparaged, angry and feeling a little bit betrayed. He’d been trying to think up ways to get out and save her, and here she was working with someone else and conspiring to keep him trapped in a cage. How had he been so wrong about Rose Tyler? ‘That mean you intend to just go off with him, then? Leave me here just ‘cos I won’t get into hormonal teenage rubbish with you?’

This time it was hurt that crossed her features instead of anger, but she kept her jaw firm and shoulders squared.

‘ _She_ is busy trying to make sure you and I can both get out of here,’ Rose replied angrily. ‘Together. The way we got here. But that’s gonna take time, and in that time there’s a few things we need to clear up.’ __

‘So, what, you intend to force me to talk?’ he asked, voice a dangerous quiet.

‘No, Doctor, I want you to listen. Just…’ she sighed. ‘I’m gonna let you out in a minute. I just…I just need you to hear this.’

That brought him up short.

Her tone had lightened again, and instead there was just something weariness and a bit of desperation in her voice. Rose was looking at him, eyes beseeching like she was trying to tell him just how important this was.

He felt himself relax in acquiescence. 


	8. Chapter Seven: The Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose deal with a group of slavers, and the Doctor meets a mysterious woman who seems to know him - and who brings him an important message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Canon-Compliance:** Takes places after the events of _The Clockwise Man_ and before _The Love Invasion_.

**_ The Shortest Life _ **

**_by_ ** **_ErtheChilde_ **

_‘There’s no one else I can talk to. I’ve seen all that stuff up there, the size of it, and I can’t say a word.’_

**SEVEN**

Despite his own anger at the situation, the Doctor couldn’t help focussing completely on Rose. This was not some dastardly opponent holding him captive, after all. __

‘There’s nothing I want more than to travel with you,’ she told him earnestly. ‘And I’d be miserable if you brought me home to stay – but I won’t let you control me.’

He couldn’t help spluttering. ‘ _Control_ you?!’

Hadn’t they already had this out once before?

‘The last bloke that made me choose between my mum and him also convinced me to drop out of school and pay his way while he tried to become a rock star,’ Rose clarified grimly, and the Doctor’s indignation stalled. ‘I was a stupid chav back then, and really lucky I didn’t come out of it with more than a few hundred quid debt and some bruises –’

An inexplicable, primal anger sparked within him at the idea that anyone would dare raise a hand to Rose Tyler.

‘I won’t do that again,’ she continued. ‘I won’t let someone do that to me again.’

She held his gaze for a long moment, and as he found himself torn over what to say. His automatic response, already on his tongue, was to retort that if she really felt he was trying to control her, he would gladly bring her home once she let him out. But even as he tried to voice the words, they seemed to shrivel at the back of his throat, because he would be anything but glad at saying goodbye the Rose.

At being abandoned by yet another companion.

Any response he might have managed to get out, though, was interrupted as the door once more slammed open. Rose whirled around, clutching the sonic to her as a stranger entered the room.

Not an Amaranian, he was relieved to see, but apparently another human like her. An athletic looking woman with curly auburn hair and grey eyes, he felt a measure of wariness at the sight of her. For one thing, she was not dressed for the location or the time period. For another, she wore a wrist strap that he had come to associate with the Time Agency.

More important than either of those things, however, was the uneasy sense of familiarity he got from seeing her.

‘Sorry to break up the domestic, but it’s time to go!’ she declared, her voice steady despite breathlessness, then her eyes fell on him. ‘Oh, hello, sweetie.’

The Doctor made a face at the cloying endearment, then levelled a gaze at Rose. ‘This the friend you were talking about?’

‘Yeah,’ she answered, shooting the stranger an oddly irritated look. ‘Doctor, this is River – River, this is the Doctor.’

‘Oh, I can see that,’ the mysterious River purred, while Rose sonicked open the cell. There was a high-pitched squeal and a click and he found himself freed from his cell, coat and boots thrust into his arms.

‘Agent of the Shadow Proclamation, is it?’ he asked as he threw on his clothes, studying their new ally suspiciously.

‘That’s what it says on the badge,’ River winked. ‘The Amaranians were about to prep your companion here for sale. She realized something was up, started kicking up a fuss – it got my attention, so I decided to get involved. Things were so dull up until then.’

‘You sound as if you knew what the Amaranians were doing beforehand?’

‘Spoilers,’ River said with a wink. ‘Now hurry up, we have a daring escape to see to.’

And she ducked back out of the holding cell area, leaving the Doctor and Rose to exchange glances.

‘I think she fancies you,’ Rose teased.

‘And I think you’re a trouble magnet,’ the Doctor retorted with a scowl. ‘C’mon!’

They hurried after the mysterious River and into a hallway – a much more sterile and official looking hallway than the Doctor recalled them being brought in through. Evidently, he had shorted out the hologram for the entire floor, if not the whole satellite.

‘Looks a bit different, doesn’t it?’ Rose said, confirming his suspicions. She nodded around the hall, which was flashing red light in time with the sound of the alarm, as they caught up with the other woman.

River whirled around to face them.

‘Right – your ship is in the holding docks on the lower levels of the satellite,’ she explained, pointing to her left. ‘Down the corridor, there’s a service lift that’ll bring you right to it. They’d be expecting you to come down the main one, so it gives you a bit of stealth and some time.’

‘What about you?’ Rose asked.

‘Species trafficking ring to deal with, remember?’ River smirked, nodding her head in the opposite direction before taking off.

Rose and the Doctor exchanged glances.

‘Does she actually think we’re just going to up and leave in the middle of something like this?’ Rose asked, sounding scandalized.

‘Of course not. That was an invitation if I ever heard one,’ the Doctor answered, automatically reaching for Rose’s hand. 

She took it without hesitating. ‘Knew you’d say that!’

They reached a crossway, but River wasn’t anywhere in sight. He started to head in one direction, but Rose tugged him in another. ‘No, the room where I was brought is this way.’

‘If you say so,’ he agreed, allowing her to navigate them around the station as she apparently knew where she was going. They were just rounding a corner when shouts from behind told him they had been spotted.

In the background he could hear orders being given to cordon off the different levels of the satellite, but despite this Rose was determinedly leading them onward. It was a change from how their adventures usually went, with him being the one organizing a daring rescue. As it was, he had already come up with at least thirteen different possible exit strategies, but seeing Rose taking control of the situation filled him with a buoying sense of pride that he just had to let her keep at it.

By the time they caught up with River in the main control room of the satellite, she was already in the midst of a dust up with at least three of the Amaranian traffickers. Several others were already knocked out on the floor amidst the ruins of hovering furniture and broken view screens.

‘Wow,’ Rose remarked, sounding impressed. ‘She’s a bit Lara Croft, isn’t she?’

The Doctor ignored that, tossing her the sonic as they crossed the threshold. ‘Go to the main computer and use the setting I’ve keyed it to. It’ll lock down the entire satellite so no one can leave.’

‘Got it!’

She darted away and the Doctor dove into the fray, just in time to grab hold of one of the Amaranians that was targeting River with his blaster.

‘Now that’s not very polite,’ he remarked idly, pulling the blaster back and using it to knock the Amaranian out.

River winked at him. ‘Thought I told you both to leg it?’

‘Well, Rose is only human…limited brain capacity and all that. Doesn’t listen to directions very well, so I’m left to break her in.’

‘Woman after my own heart – no wonder you could never keep her from wandering off.’

The Doctor’s head whipped around at that comment. _Something_ in time rippled within him at those words, but he didn’t get a chance to ask about it as one of the traffickers grabbed him around the neck, forcing him to flip him over his shoulder.

‘Lemme go!’ he heard Rose yell from across the room, and after knocking his own assailant to the ground, he saw her being lifted away from the control unit he had sent her to, arms trapped in the alien’s grasp and legs kicking uselessly.

‘Rose!’

He tried to get to her, but was hindered by a flurry of blasterfire that forced him to duck. Behind him, circuitry smoked and he heard the pained yelps of someone who hadn’t been so lucky. 

Once again he tried to get to Rose, whose entire body was flailing. He watched, bemused, as she suddenly threw her head back and knocked the Amaranian in the face. He howled, releasing her automatically, and she whirled around and kicked him first in the shin, and then in another place that made the Doctor wince in sympathy.

He was just watching her shoulder-charge her attacker when his attention was called back to his own fight, ducking out of the path of blaster that went off as River struggled with another trafficker.

He threw himself back into it, disarming and knocking out his opponents with reflexes he couldn’t help wish he’d forgotten. And while River seemed to have no compunction of appropriating one of the Amaranian blasters for her own use, he carefully avoided touching any such weapon.

He’d sworn to himself that if he succeeded in eradicating the Daleks, he would never again use a gun.

In the background, there was a mechanical voice declaring that the satellite was being put on lock-down, all of the main exit ports being closed down. Between the Doctor and River, they managed make short work of two of the traffickers that jumped out from behind a large computer tower. The last few Amaranians seemed to be fleeing towards what appeared to be a teleport platform at the other end of the room. River tossed something round and illuminated in blue into their midst, and seconds later a flash bomb took out everything within a six foot radius.

‘Stun only – I know you’ve got a _thing_ about that.’ She beamed at him and the familiar feeling was back tenfold. With it came the familiar sense of a different regeneration’s memories bleeding through into his current timeline.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded.

‘Spoilers,’ she said again, in a maddeningly smug voice.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Don’t fret too much over it. You and I are going to meet a few more times before I can tell you that. And I have the distinct memory of telling you on one of those occasions – and not before.’

‘What do you mean, “not before”?’

‘Sorry, not allowed to tell you.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘It’s against the rules.’

‘Whose rules?’

‘Your rules.’

It hit him again, the discomforting partial perception of having had this conversation – or that he would have this conversation – in a different incarnation. And once again, before he could call her out on it, his attention was drawn by a shout from across the room.

‘Doctor!’

Once again, Rose was being held by one of their would-be captors – this time a much more decorated looking one than the others, probably the leader. He was dragging Rose toward the door they had come through, a hand securing her in a way that made it impossible to fight back. 

‘Rose!’ he made a move toward her, only for the Amaranian to suddenly produce a blaster which he pushed roughly against her temple.

‘That would be an extremely bad idea, sir,’ he declared in the same officious sounding voice that most Amaranians used. ‘I would hate to have to decorate the floor with her brain matter. And I would also appreciate your associate lowering her weapon.’

‘Oh, I would, but I really don’t want to,’ River retorted, not budging.

‘Steady,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘That’s all we need are two trigger-happy semi-sentients taunting each other with guns. Let’s just talk this out and no one needs to get hurt.’ He turned an icy stare on the Amaranian captain, his voice going low and dangerous. ‘What exactly do you think you’re going to do? The entire satellite’s been locked down. Not many places for you to go, and trust me when I say as long as you have her with you, I’ll find you.’

‘I imagine so,’ the Amaranian agreed. ‘Which is why I have nothing to lose in doing _this_ –’

Blaster still unerringly trained on Rose’s head, he reached for the nearest computer terminal and punched something in.

_‘Satellite Self Destruct Engaged_ ,’ a robotic voice echoed all around them.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Rose cried as he dragged her toward the door.

‘My crew and I prefer death to the type of prison sentence that the Shadow Proclamation likely has in store for us,’ the Amaranian captain said, smiling unpleasantly. ‘But on the off-chance that I make it out of here alive? She will be very useful. Very useful indeed.’

‘Doctor!’ Rose yelped as the Amaranian pushed her aside and punched a button.

The door separating the control room from the corridor slid down, separating him and Rose from the Doctor and River with an echoing finality.

‘Rose!’

The Doctor vaulted across computers and debris, trying to make it to the door before it slid shut, but missing it by inches.

‘Damn!’ he snarled, whipping out the sonic to try to open it. Nothing happened. ‘Deadlock sealed. There’s no way off the bridge – unless –’ He headed toward the teleport pad that the Amaranians had been trying to get to escape through before. ‘A localized teleport might make it possible to –’

He stopped talking when he saw a smoking, gaping hole in the coils and circuitry of the navigational matrix.

‘We’re trapped in here,’ he realized.

‘Oh, not necessarily,’ River murmured smugly, holding up her wrist and showing off a familiar looking wrist band.

‘You’re a Time Agent?’ He realized. And really, he should have thought of that. It would explain why her time traces didn’t make any sense.

‘No, not exactly – but I did know one nice of enough to lend me his little toy,’ she chuckled, and then added, ‘Well, I knew what he liked.’ Her eyes raked over him again. ‘Bet if we had a bit more time, I could figure out what this you likes, too.’

The casual allusion to regeneration caught him off guard for a moment, but he recovered himself just as quickly.

Stepping forward, he grabbed her bare wrist tightly.

‘Who are you?’ he growled. ‘Because you’re not working for the Shadow Proclamation – they don’t have agents, and you don’t resemble the Judoon in any way – ’

‘Yeah, but Rose doesn’t know that, does she?’ 

His eyes flickered over her suspiciously again, and he realized suddenly what was off about this woman.

‘You don’t belong in this time.’

‘Oh, I bet you say that to all your girls.’

‘No, you don’t belong to this timeline – or any timeline,’ he told her, frowning as he tried to figure out the exact nature of the problem without tapping into his time sense. ‘Your time is…done. Run out. But you’re still here, right in front of me.’ Even as he said it, he knew it was true. He hadn’t noticed it before because he had been avoiding the use of his temporal senses. ‘Every creature is surrounded by a constant swirl of time and…possibility. I can feel them even without reaching out, but you – you’ve got none. It’s as if, it’s all run out.’

She offered him a sad smile. ‘That’s because it has.’

‘What?’

‘I am out of time. Sort of. It’s a bit like a save point. And I was hauled out of time picoseconds before my death to do a job. When it’s done, I have to go back. She said it was one of those fixed points I wasn’t allowed to meddle with – ’

‘She?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Then what the hell can you tell me?’

‘Just this: I was sent on this little adventure by your oldest friend.’

‘Oldest friend?’ There were only a handful of individuals that could carry that moniker, and all of them were dead. Unless – ‘Someone else survived?’

The pitying look she gave him answered that question and killed the tiniest spark of hope that tried to flare to life. 

‘Why were you sent here, then?’ he asked stiffly, forcing his face back to blankness.

‘Playing the part of intergalactic messenger girl it seems,’ she sighed. ‘I was sent here specifically to find you and give you a message – and, well, then I saw your companion was about to be shipped off somewhere nasty. Seems they already had a buyer for her and everything, so even if you had managed to escape eventually, she would have been gone.’

‘I would have gone after her.’

‘It would’ve been too late by the time you found her,’ River pointed out. ‘Either way, you can say “thank you” any time now.’

He was quiet for a long moment, and instead asked, ‘What’s the message then?’

She leaned forward, motioning with a finger that he should come closer. Against his better judgement, he did so and she moved her lips to inches away from his ear.

‘Protect the Valiant Child.’ 

The message resonated within him, the memory of a dream long past. He could remember it now – the fevered dream and the promise he’d made to Time. Although he couldn’t remember exactly what had prompted him to promise, he knew he had meant it.

The aimless feeling, like he had forgotten something, disappeared as his memories clarified.

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘When this is over, you’re going to tell me the truth. And hang the spoilers rot! But right now, we’ve got to get Rose back.’

‘Looking forward to it, Doctor dear,’ River answered, not looking the least bit intimidated as she keyed in the right data for two travellers. ‘Hold tight.’

‘I hate travelling this way,’ the Doctor grunted. ‘Always leaves a bad taste in my mouth.’

‘Bit like sulphur,’ River agreed as the control room faded around them.

Only to materialize in a different corridor, completely surrounded by frantic Amaranians running to and fro through the out corridor. All of this came to a halt when they noticed the Doctor and River, and there was a sudden flurry of movement to train every available weapon on them.

‘Well, that was less than optimal,’ River sighed.

‘Just a bit,’ the Doctor agreed as he and River backed away. ‘Stupidly loyal bunch. Their leader says jump, they say –’

‘ – where’s the nearest cliff?’

‘Yep.’ 

His eyes flitted back and forth in the empty hallway, looking for any means of escape. If he got killed or was forced to regenerate, it was time he’d lose from finding Rose. And trying to follow trails of slaves and slave owners across the galaxy was not the easiest task in the world.

His eyes lit on a nearby protrusion on the wall and his heart lifted. A rubbish chute.

River seemed to notice at the same time, because she began to surreptitiously inch them toward it.

‘Go on, then,’ she ordered. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘What? No –’

‘I’ve got my own way out, remember?’ she said, indicating her vortex manipulator. ‘Now go get Rose!’

She shoved him towards the chute, ducking out of the way herself as gunfire erupted around them. She took cover around the corner facing them and started rummaging in her pockets, probably for another flash bomb or blaster.

Questions abounded in his head, but the Doctor ignored them for now. She had said they would meet again, and he could get his answers then. For now, he simply threw himself towards the chute and dove in.

There was an exploding sound behind him, cut off as he slid down the vent.

‘I really hope this doesn’t lead to an incinerator,’ he muttered.

· ΘΣ ·

A quick dash through the satellite’s waste disposal system, and the Doctor found himself in a service corridor leading to the docking levels. He was just cursing his inability to move any faster, when a shout broke through his thoughts as he rounded a corner.

‘Doctor!’

There was Rose, slumped uncertainly outside the corridor leading to the transportation hangar. She looked rumpled and bruised, but no worse for the wear.

‘You’re a sight,’ he told her, trying to make light of his relief in finding her unharmed. ‘What’d I tell you about wandering off?’

‘Didn’t have much of a choice, really,’ she shot back, allowing him to help her to her feet.

‘And where is our friend the slaver captain?’

‘Gone in there – he said with all the transport they’ve commandeered, there’s bound to be one that has a teleport,’ she explained. ‘He was gonna take me with him – said the amount of money I’d fetch would let him start over with a new crew.’

‘And yet you’re still here?’

‘Don’t think he reckoned on me fighting him,’ she said, looking smug. ‘I practically took a chunk out of his arm and suddenly he wasn’t so keen.’

‘You’re lucky his skin wasn’t poisonous,’ he chided, although he was proud.

Rose’s face fell. ‘You mean that’s a _possibility_?’

‘Xenobiology lessons later,’ he decided, grabbing her hand and hauling her onward toward the hangar. ‘He just left you here?’

‘No, I ran here after biting him – and I’m _never_ going to get _that_ taste out of my mouth, am I – Guess he didn’t feel like coming after me. Waste of time, and all that.’

They burst through the huge hangar door to the docking port.

Across the room he could see the TARDIS, surrounded by several Amaranian officers pointing blasters at them.

Beside him, Rose slowed, staring at the weapons uncertainly, and the Doctor tightened his grip on her hand, hoping to pass on a sense of reassurance. He’d be able to talk them out of this bit of trouble, just enough to get them to the ship.

Probably.

He was just opening his mouth to do just that, arms slowly raising in surrender, when there was a sudden explosion from the area just behind the Amaranians and the TARDIS. 

Something blue and foamy exploded within a ten yard radius of the ship, just barely reaching the Doctor and Rose. He managed to shield her from most of it, but a huge glob of the stuff hit his front and began to solidify on contact.

‘I just put that on,’ he grumbled, though his eyes were fixed on the Amaranians being immobilized by the blue foam. Some kind of organic immobilization tool from what he could tell; nasty stuff to get stuck in, even if it only lasted a short time. Amazingly, none of the stuff had landed on the doors of the TARDIS, meaning whoever had thrown it had excellent aim or was terribly lucky.

Seconds later something zipped past them on a speeder, leading another group of Amaranians away.

River.

‘Her timing’s almost as good as yours,’ the Doctor pointed out.

‘Bet she hasn’t got the bronze though.’

Just as the aliens started to gain on the speeder, there was another flash and River was gone, the speeder careening into a wall. A wall very close to where the Amaranian captain appeared to be struggling with a primitive teleport device.

He looked up split seconds before it happened.

There was a muffled explosion of sound and fire.

‘River!’ Rose shouted, her smile fading.

She made to move toward the incendiary, but the Doctor held on to her.

‘She got out,’ he told her. ‘I saw her – she teleported right out. Probably put herself down planetside.’

Though he doubted that, given how much information she both had and hadn’t given him.

‘Uh…Doctor?’

‘Yeah?’

‘The, uh, blue stuff? It’s starting to melt.’

He blinked and looked at the Amaranians that were starting to be able to move again. In the distance where River had disappeared, the aliens were getting over their confusion and turning to head back toward the Doctor and Rose once more.

‘Right – time to go!’

He pulled Rose by the hand, navigating her through the sea of Amaranians and into the TARDIS. They were just closing the door behind them when the aliens managed to get completely free. The sound of fists pounding on the doors followed them as they bounded up towards the console.

‘Are we actually gonna get out this time?’ Rose asked. ‘Only, you said they shouldn’t have been able to catch us last time, but –’

‘Dematerialization sequence was just a bit out of sync – otherwise most tractor beams couldn’t hold us, let alone this one,’ the Doctor answered, pulling a lever and twirling a few dials. ‘If I could just – _hah!_ There we go –’

The Time Rotor began to move up and down, and the wheezing groan of the TARDIS heaving into the Vortex filled their ears. Outside sounds faded away, and after a few jolting shakes of the ship, he eased them into a lazy drift through time and space.

‘And that’s us off,’ the Doctor announced smugly. ‘Not quite the most daring escape I’ve ever managed, but can’t have everything.’

‘Yeah, cos you did that all by yourself, did you?’

‘Hm…guess I had a _bit_ of help.’

They grinned at each other for a long spell, before he decided to break the silence.

‘So, Rose Tyler, where to next?’ he asked eagerly. ‘Kingdom of Jerusalem after the First Crusade? Off to Rome to visit Emperor Nero? Bit of advice, don’t let him around a lit flame…or a lyre, for that matter.’

Rose bit her lip. ‘Well…that depends.’

Her words brought him up short, and all of a sudden. From her expression, he had a feeling she was either going to ask him to do something unpleasant or was gearing up for a serious, more-likely-than-not domestic conversation.

‘Oh? Depends on what?’ he tried to sound off hand, but his hearts were clenching. She seemed just as uneasy, because her fists were balled tight and from the way she was squaring her shoulders, she was about to say something unpleasant. ‘Rose?’

‘On you,’ she told him. ‘On finishing our conversation.’

He tensed. ‘You mean the one where you accused me of controlling you? Cos if we’re about to have a repeat of Velopssi where you all but said I’d used mind-control to make you come with me –’

‘You can’t blame me for things I don’t remember doing!’

‘Why not? Happens to me all the time…’

‘Alright, fine – but if I did say that, I can’t imagine not apologizing for it. And if I didn’t, let me apologize again – I would never really think that of you,’ Rose insisted. ‘It was probably just me really angry about something and lashing out. I do that sometimes – and before you get all superior and Time Lord-y about it, you’re not exactly blameless when it comes to lashing out either!’ 

He opened his mouth to protest, only to be distracted when her hand suddenly snapped out and grabbed his. The movement was urgent, but the squeeze of her fingers around his encouraging. ‘Stop – look, can we just…can we just talk about this normal people – or aliens – or whatever. Like some kind of mature species?’

He was torn between the instinct to pull away from her and the desperate need to squeeze her hand back. He forced neutrality into his tone. ‘Fine.’

‘Great,’ she offered him a tentative smile, before turning serious again. ‘I know you don’t see it that way, but you tried to stop me from staying to clear things properly with Mum. After I’d been missing for a year.’

‘Twelve hours,’ he corrected with sulky intonation of someone losing an argument.

‘To her it was a year! She’s all the family I ever had and I’m all that she’s ever had since my dad…’ Rose swallowed, either unwilling or unable to finish the sentence. Some wounds, he knew, never really healed. ‘The point it, I won’t put her through another year like that, Doctor, not even for you. Not even for the universe. And if you can’t handle that…then I guess you need to bring me home.’

The Doctor felt like his lungs were seizing up a bit.

He could tell just looking at her that this was something she didn’t want to do. She wanted to stay with him and the ultimatum she was giving him was at least forty percent nothing but bravado – her drawing a line in the sand to figure out where she stood with him.

‘You don’t get to make decisions for me,’ she continued, and then paused for a minute, before adding, ‘Not unless it’s like Downing Street, where it comes down to saving the world. Which means if I want to square things with my mum and Mickey, you don’t get to hold an intergalactic sand storm or aliens with glowing skin or whatever over my head ‘til I choose what you want to do.  So I’m gonna be calling Mum every so often, and I’m going to have to visit.’ She paused again, and concluded with forced levity, ‘And possibly stop by to do laundry, cos if you’ve got a washing machine on board, I haven’t found it yet.’

He opened his mouth to reply that, of course there was a washing machine on board the TARDIS, but hesitated. Rose was watching him expectantly, and he realized with a pang that this meant something to her. 

In the past, and given his thoughts on the matter earlier, the course of action should have been clear: he should bring her home rather than deal with someone who couldn’t stomach leaving their cosy life behind. In his experience, it was those companions who stubbornly retained their ties to their families and comfort zones that caused the most trouble.

Yet faced with the decision being laid out before him, the idea of bringing Rose home – the idea of her wanting to leave – put an awful taste in his mouth. More than that, the most honest part of himself knew that he needed her more right now than he needed to stick to his old ways.

He had spent his entire life having others forced to fit into the way he lived his life, perhaps it was time to give a little on that front. Especially if he didn’t want to continue on alone. 

Briefly, he considered whether he would be able to endure the necessity of getting a little domestic in order to keep Rose travelling with him, and found to his surprise that the trade-off sounded less terrible than he usually would have considered. If it meant visiting her mother and friends once in a while in order to keep her by his side…

Well, he would deal with it.

Just until he didn’t need her anymore, he told the Time Lord part of him that continued to balk at the idea of being tied down in any way.

Besides, he’d already given her the damn key just yesterday, he wasn’t about to look like an idiot asking for it back.

‘Fine,’ the Doctor grunted eventually. ‘We can go back for laundry – but don’t expect me to come ‘round for tea.’

‘Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson,’ Rose quipped, but there was no malice in her voice. Meeting her gaze, he saw she was once again grinning at him, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth.

‘S’not like we can avoid the Earth entirely, anyway,’ he mumbled grudgingly, ‘Seeing as how there’s some kind of invasion usually going on. No wonder you’re so jeopardy friendly, considering where you come from…’

‘If you think I’m jeopardy friendly because I come from Earth, I’d hate to see what your –’ 

Her voice cut off abruptly, but not before the Doctor sensed the direction of her thoughts. Forestalling any apologies or words that would make him think too hard on the subject, he cut her off, ‘So, tell me how you managed your daring rescue to come get me.’

Rose still managed to look contrite at her slip up, but quickly replaced that with a grin and launched into a tale of how she and River had met in the waiting room of the so-called security station, as well as a ploy that helped them sneak their belongings out of the lock-up where they had been taken.

‘…and then River saw I was about to get seen by this one green bloke while I was getting your things, and she kinda swore that she knew I was going to blow her operation, but she didn’t seem all that upset about it – so she grabs the guy and plants one on him – was he ever surprised! – and the whole time is pointing at me to go and get you. Wasn’t much else I could do.’

‘And that’s how you ended up finding me?’

‘Pretty much, yeah.’

‘So how did you know you could trust her?’

‘Hm?’

‘This River person. How’d you know you could trust her, at first?’

‘Didn’t seem like she wanted to hurt me,’ Rose shrugged. ‘Besides, she showed me her badge and stuff. Told me she was an agent of the Shadow Proclamation. Heard you talking about them enough, so I figured it was safe.’

The Doctor frowned. ‘The Shadow Proclamation doesn’t use agents. They usually work with mercenaries, if they work with anyone.’

‘But she showed me…’

‘This?’ the Doctor asked, bringing out the billfold that housed the psychic paper and flipping it open, willing it to show her whatever credentials River had showed her.

Her eyes widened. ‘But…?’

The Doctor folded the paper up again. ‘I’m not the only one in the universe with psychic paper, Rose. Best keep an eye out for that.’

‘How?’ Rose asked, looking a bit wrong-footed.

‘Not much you can do unless you get some psychic training. I can help you with that, a bit – would be easier if you were the slightest bit telepathic, but I’d’ve noticed by now if you were,’ he told her. ‘For now, whenever someone shows you identification, think of something completely different from what they’re showing you. With a bit of practice, that might make the paper flicker a bit and you’d know.’

‘’Kay,’ she said, wide-eyed with incredulity.

‘In the meantime, my question is, what our friend River was doing there to begin with. She said we’d met before.’

‘Have you?’

‘No – she said we meet again in the future. Not unheard of, that. Sometimes things happen to me out of order.’

‘Let me get this straight – she’s met us before and we’ve never met her, but at some point in our future we’re going to meet her and she won’t have met us? Or something like that?’

The Doctor beamed proudly. ‘Exactly.’

‘Right…’ Rose mused. ‘So maybe our future selves sent her here to help us?’

‘No, that’s not it. I wouldn’t risk creating or maintaining a time loop for something so boring as a species trafficking operation,’ the Doctor answered thoughtfully. ‘Besides, she told me she was sent here.’

‘By who?

‘My oldest friend, apparently,’ he answered bitterly. ‘Which is impossible, because anyone that fits that very, very small category is gone.’

Rose was quiet, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of pity or pensiveness until she asked, ‘What if whoever it is sent her from your past?’

‘Doesn’t work that way,’ he told her, trying to keep his tone distant and academic despite the blistering pain at the subject of their conversation. ‘Time Lords exist outside of time. Now that…now that my planet is gone, it’s as if every individual Time Lord’s time line has disappeared with it. The only remnant of them now are points where their timelines interacted with mine, and even then they’re just echoes.’

He noticed that her face was pulled into a contemplative frown, trying to think around problems she never would have considered before meeting him. 

‘What if it’s not a Time Lord?’ she suggested. ‘Or…what if it’s someone you haven’t met yet? Just cos she said it was your oldest friend might mean it’s someone you make friends with in your future and stay friends with for a long time. I mean, your kind live practically forever, right?’

‘Something like that,’ he said softly. He couldn’t help the admiring glance he gave her this time. Really, she was a rather brilliant little human. ‘It’s entirely possible. Still, doesn’t give us any answers, does it?’

‘Maybe we should go back and ask her,’ Rose suggested then, a bit hesitant. ‘I mean, at some point before she disappears.’

The Doctor considered it for a moment, then shook his head. ‘She’s likely long gone by now, wherever her teleport brought her. And going back to before would risk temporal complications I don’t much care to deal with, what with the TARDIS being tetchy enough to let traffic cops catch us.’

There was an annoyed hum at that.

‘If this River person telling the truth, we’ll run into her again,’ the Doctor said. ‘And I’m inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt this time – she did get you out of there, didn’t she?’

‘Which let me save you,’ Rose agreed. ‘So she can’t be completely bad, can she?’

Not unless she had an ulterior motive beyond her so-called message delivery, the Doctor didn’t say, not wanting to shatter Rose’s optimism so early in their travels. ‘Yeah.’ 

Rose smiled at him, like his admitting something so optimistic was the highlight of her day, and he quickly busied himself with the controls again.

‘Alright then – next stop, Powell Estate,’ he announced with the air of someone bestowing a great concession. ‘Just do me a favour and don’t go running out right away.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well…on the minute, improbable chance that I mistyped the coordinates and out there isn’t London in 2005, we can still correct it,’ he explained. ‘Once you’re part of the time stream, though…let’s just say I’m not in the mood for your mother takin’ exception to my face again.’

‘And what’re the odds?’ she challenged.

‘Infinitesimally small,’ he pronounced, glancing at the screen in front of him and frowning. ‘Then again…’

Rose raised an eyebrow as he leaned down to check something. ‘How far off?’

‘Just a day this time.’

Rose groaned, but it was a resigned sound and with little malice.

All was forgiven, it seemed.

This time.


	9. Chapter Eight: The Madman of Macedon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is technically a re-release of a chapter I put out over a year ago and took down, but I’ve since reworked the entire plot of The Shortest Life, so there have been a few changes for everything beyond this chapter. So, if this seems familiar to anyone, sorry you were sort of cheated of a “new” new chapter, but if it’s any consolation, I’m working on the next one and the wait won’t be quite as long. This is unedited for now, as usual.

 

 

 

_‘’You can go back and see days that are dead and gone a hundred thousand sunsets ago. No wonder you never stay still.’_

 

‘Morning!’

The Doctor looked up from the console as Rose bounded into the control room, zipping up a pink and black hoodie. Judging from the smell of coconut and honey shampoo, she’d already showered, and the satisfied smile she offered him suggested she’d eaten as well.

Not much use until her first cup of tea, Rose Tyler. He had learned that the hard way in their early days travelling together. Two months in and it was one of the many little quirks and habits that he had become intimately familiar with.

That, and her habit of bringing him a cup of tea every morning despite his numerous warning about liquids near the circuitry.

‘No such thing as morning in the TARDIS,’ he told her automatically, a response that had become as commonplace as her good-natured teasing. He pulled away from the circuits he had been mending and took the offered cup. ‘How many times do I have to tell you that time doesn’t exist in here, so there’s no such thing as morning or night?’

‘You’re your usual cheery self, aren’t you?’ she quipped, plonking down on the jump seat as she fiddled with an elastic for her hair. ‘So, bring down any evil alien dictatorships while I was asleep?’

‘Only the one. It was a slow day.’

She beamed a tongue-touched smile at him. ‘Thought you said time doesn’t exist in the TARDIS? How can a day be slow?’

‘First of all, it’s a figure of speech. Second, there’s a difference between measuring progression of time, and arbitrary divisions of time.’

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘So it’s a figure of speech when you say it, but when I do it’s all –’ She adopted a truly horrendous imitation of his accent, ‘‘Oh, time doesn’ exist in ‘ere, silly ‘uman’. That’s a double standard if I ever heard one.’

‘The first of many you’ll run into, I’m sure.’

‘You know, you won’t have many friends of you keep acting like you’re so superior to everyone all the time.’

‘Who said anything about acting?’

‘If I ever develop an ego, you’ve got the job! Alright then – other than fighting the good fight, what else have you been doing?’

‘Mostly just some repairs – routine stuff. Been meaning to since we got back from Rediag and figured it wouldn’t hurt to update some of the circuit systems while you’re sleeping away your life.’

‘You know, the amount you get on about me being human, makes me think you’ve got human envy,’ Rose teased. He must have made a face at that, because she laughed and beamed up at him. ‘So where are we going today?’

‘Plenty to choose from, big a universe as this,’ he told her. ‘Could go visit Socrates – he’d like you and your love of questions. Or Sun Tzu – though he never forgave me for replacing him as the Emperor’s military advisor. Einstein’s always a fun one…his theories on relativity…’

The Doctor trailed off, tolerantly exasperated at the memory. His grin faded a bit at Rose’s uncertain look.

‘I don’t know if I’d be able to keep up a conversation with him,’ she said, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. ‘I’m not, you know, smart enough to get half of what he’d be on about.’

The Doctor turned a sharp look on her. ‘Why would you think that?’

Rose shrugged. ‘I was never any good at maths and science. Besides, it’s what all my teachers said. Cos I’m a girl and I’m off an estate, and all.’

‘Fantastic,’ the Doctor mumbled but not in his usual genuine way. ‘Your teachers…’ He waited a moment until she looked up, holding her gaze with ease. ‘Something you might well learn now. All your life, people will tell you things. And most of the time – probably ninety-eight percent of the time – what they’ll tell you will be wrong. It’s a fact of life. Human beings – actually, most sentient species – are just stuffed full of misinformation. It’s why you have to go out into the world and figure it out yourself.’

‘That what you do?’ she asked, sounding like she was trying to cover up doubt with levity.

He grinned. ‘Exactly. And you, Rose Tyler, you’re brilliant. Gender’s just one of many categories that have no bearing on learning. There’s all sorts.’

‘If you say so,’ Rose answered, a bit of a shy smile working its way back onto her face.

‘I do say so! And I’ll prove it to you.’ He was already reaching for the console. ‘We’re going to Alexandria. Gonna go visit the Library.’

‘Er…alright,’ Rose said slowly.

‘Not, “er, alright” - _fantastic_ ,’ the Doctor corrected. This time it was genuine. ‘I’m going to introduce you to an old friend of mine – Hypatia. People said she couldn’t learn maths cos she was a woman, and she proved them wrong.’

‘Well, I’m all for the girl getting the last laugh,’ Rose decided, sounding a bit more enthused now.

‘Hold on to something!’

She didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing on to one of the coral struts as the Doctor pumped a lever and spun several dials.

The Time Rotor was moving frantically up and down, pulsing green light throughout the control room in time with dematerialization. For several minutes the entire room shook and trembled as the TARDIS heaved through the Vortex. The Doctor made several mental notes of more minor repairs he’d have to do before their next take off.

Slowly, the shaking and tremors of the ship faded away, and Rose darted forward to get a look at the view screen. Ever since the twelve-months-not-twelve-hours mix up the Doctor tried to make a conscious effort to prove that they were landing at the proper time and place; it didn’t always happen, though, especially at times when he was particularly keen to show her something or if they were in a hurry.

Right now, he was glowering at the screen over her shoulder as though it had mortally offended him. Once again, they hadn’t ended up where he had intended.

‘Bit unimpressive,’ Rose commented, studying the adobe buildings on the screen. ‘Is it a very small library?’

‘There is no library,’ the Doctor answered, annoyance colouring his words. ‘Not even built yet. In fact, the city’s barely been built yet. We’re about a hundred years off, judging from the architecture. Probably around the year 332 BC, if you want to use an anachronistic and subjective designation of time…’

‘You’re a rubbish driver.’

‘It’s not me, it was the TARDIS. Navigation’s been off since…’ he trailed off, a shadow of grief and pain flickering across his features, before he forced a grin. ‘And, of course, she’s always had a mind of her own about these things.’ Whether she’d noticed the lapse or not, Rose didn’t make a mention of it and the Doctor shot her a sideways glance. ‘Want to give Hypatia another go? Or d’you feel like seeing what’s so interesting here the TARDIS thought we’d like to take a look?’

‘Best bet’s to do what the TARDIS says. At least I trust _her_ driving.’

‘Oi!’

He scowled, not only at the implication but at the change in the TARDIS’ hum that sounded like laughter.

Rose skipped off, heading for the wardrobe and shot a grin over her shoulder. ‘332 BC, yeah? Does that mean togas and sandals?’

‘Chitons and stolas, more like.’

‘I don’t even know what those are.’

‘The TARDIS’ll lay somethin’ out, as usual.’

‘Right. And let me guess, as usual you won’t be changin’?’

‘Nah – wouldn’t want to get a sunburn out there. Sensitive skin, you know.’

‘What happened to ‘superior Time Lord biology’?’

‘Go get dressed, Rose.’

· ΘΣ ·

‘It’s hot. And it smells.’

The Doctor could practically hear Rose’s nose wrinkling, despite the fact she wasn’t facing him.

‘Well, what d’you expect? We’re long before hygiene was considered important,’ he replied, looking around the narrow street the TARDIS had landed them in. It was deep in dust at the tail end of summer, with insect-buzzing heaps of rubbish lying wherever they had been dumped. Several yards away, a rush of liquid garbage was thrown from a second story window, and irregular trickles of sewage meandered down the middle of the street. ‘Also, I think we might have landed in the rough part of town.’

‘Travelling with you? That doesn’t surprise me anymore,’ Rose remarked, eyes wide as she continued to take everything in.

Blank-walled, one- and two-storey buildings lined the twisting laneways. Every few hundred yards, the blank houses gave way to clusters of small shops, their fronts spilling into the street as merchants shouted to passersby about their wares. Skinny, feral dogs wound in and out of the crowds, and a water-seller wandered up and down, slinging his bulging goatskin and cups as he moved.

Although it was too early for the city to be organised into the five main districts Alexander would leave behind, Alexandria was the foundations of those were already visible. Judging from the looks of the people, as well as the fact he and Rose were passing the not-yet-built Serapeum, the TARDIS had landed them in Rhakotis. Or what would one day become the district where the native Egyptians lived.

Not the safest of districts, really.

The Doctor steered Rose in an easterly direction, towards what would one day be the royal district. All the while, he explained about how one day it would house the greatest collection of libraries, temples and gardens ever seen in the Hellenistic world.

The streets began to widen and the air became less close. They received some odd looks from the townsfolk, either because of Rose’s foreign looks or due to the rarity of a man and woman strolling along hand-in-hand. They weren’t bothered, though, which was nice.

Likely because the TARDIS had had the foresight to provide Rose with clothing traditionally worn by _hetaerae_ , or courtesans; they had the most freedom women of this time period could hope for. It was a good thing, too, or else she might have been confused for his wife or daughter – or worse, a low-class prostitute. The awkwardness of that misconception wouldn’t be half as inconvenient as her not being able to move freely in the city.

The long embroidered _chiton_ and deep blue _himation_ she wore were made of cotton, material that was considered of high quality and which would mark her as well-off. The fact that she wore eye make-up and hoop earrings completed the image.

Assessing her clothing, he decided not to let on that courtesans were usually prostitutes too, just more educated. He didn’t much fancy finding out if slapping was hereditary.

‘So what’s so interesting about 332 BC?’ Rose eventually asked when they came to a wider open square.

‘Lots of things. King Dhana Nanda’s mucked up by insulting some kid with a grudge, the Mayans are in the middle of their version of World Cup – though, it’s _ollamaliztli_ , not football, and likely involves more bloodshed than your usual match. Alexander the Great’s in the middle of planning for this city here to become –’

‘Alexander? I think I saw that film!’ Rose interrupted, sounding excited.

The Doctor sniffed. ‘Travesty of human achievement, that. Alexander was a bore, and he wouldn’t have gotten quite so far if it weren’t for the legacy his father left. Still, even he didn’t deserve Angelina Jolie for a mother. Never did understand how that was supposed to work, what with Colin Farrell being her age and all…’

‘Can we meet him?’

He looked down his nose at her. ‘All of time and space, and you want to meet some Irish yob?’

‘Not _him_ – least not today – I meant Alexander the Great!’

The Doctor hesitated.

He had already visited the Macedonian king once before, in his first incarnation. The memory of that tragic visit – and of exactly who he had been travelling with at the time – made the idea an unappealing one.

But Rose’s expression was bright-eyed and enthusiastic. The whole point of the visit to Alexandria had been his attempt to help her forget the sense of inadequacy imparted in her by ignorant teachers. Hypatia would have been ideal in that respect, but considering Rose was at least familiar enough with Philip’s windbag of a son…

‘Could be tricky,’ he told her. ‘I visited him when I was younger – or, well, will visit, if you want to be linear about it. In about ten years from this date. He never mentioned meeting me before.’

‘Oh,’ Rose said, the slightest bit of disappointment in her tone.

‘But I looked loads different back then – been a couple centuries at least,’ the Doctor hastened to say. ‘Probably didn’t mention me cos he didn’t recognise me.’

The disappointment ebbed. ‘Yeah?’

‘Just to be on the safe side, don’t call me ‘Doctor’ around him,’ he instructed her, already taking her hand.

‘What am I supposed to call you then? Joe Bloggs? John Smith?’

‘Something a bit more time appropriate – s’pose Ioannes will do in a pinch.’

They came upon an area which seemed newer and was more obviously under construction than other places.

‘Probably where whatever generals and nobles Alexander brought with him are staying,’ the Doctor explained. ‘A few years from now, it’s going to be the district where the Greek nobs live. Ideally located next to the royal district, but close enough to the Greek commons that they could go slumming every now and again.’

He nodded to an area in the distance. It was taken up by makeshift and temporary homes meant to house whatever forces Alexander had brought with him when he decided to stop in Alexandria.

‘What were you doing here the last time? Or, what will you be doing?’ Rose asked as they headed towards the harbour, where the royal palaces and the king himself were likely to be located.

‘Oh, the usual – took a wrong turn, ended up meeting famous people and saving the world.’

‘And that’s not vague at all.’

‘It’s what happened.’

‘For someone who’s been alive as long as you and met as many people, you’d think you’d have more to say than “I saved the world a lot”.’

‘What are you talking about? I’ve told you plenty of stories.’

‘Yeah, small stuff, like, “oh, I bought Becks his first football” or “you should’ve seen this place when sabre-toothed tigers lived here”,’ Rose said dismissively. ‘But those aren’t really personal, it’s just you being all impressive.’

“Well, at least you’ve finally admitted that,” he said lightly, trying to steer away from the direction this conversation was headed in.

She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “But what about other stuff? Like…you’re alien, so why’d you come to Earth in the first place? And when’d you start travelling? Did you have to go to school to fly the TARDIS? Those kinds of things.”

Images flitted through his mind: a slim, pixie-faced girl dancing to music – long uniforms and droning voices – a stranger pointing him towards a TARDIS with a knackered navigation system –

He shut the door on those memories as quickly as they came, but there was still a heaviness that built up around his hearts in response.

‘Does it matter?’ he snapped. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you or what we’re doing right now, so leave it alone.’

Rose’s mouth fell open a little at that, as though she hadn’t expected such a sharp rebuke. Her eyes snapped and he could see her lips moving to form an automatic, defensive reply – inborn instinct of her upbringing, no doubt – but instead she swallowed and looked away. ‘Right. Sorry I asked.’

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and the Doctor revisited his words in his head, wincing as he did so. Even though it was a topic he wasn’t keen on bringing up, she hadn’t deserved that tone. He had just been a bit caught off guard. She wasn’t usually so direct in asking him questions about his past, and he was usually ready to deflect her well-meaning curiosity.

The problem was, it was getting harder to do that. The longer they travelled together, the more he regained bits of himself that had disappeared in the War. She was healing him, slowly but surely, helping him regain his wanderlust and belief that sometimes, just sometimes, the universe wasn’t conspiring to make him miserable.

More and more he found himself tempted to tell her about his past. The problem was, saying anything about the man – _men_ – he had been in the past would inevitably lead to the topic of the Time War.

He still wasn’t ready for that, but that didn’t mean he should treat Rose badly because of it.

As usual, though, she didn’t let his caustic words cow her for long.

‘I know you’ve been through a lot, Doctor,’ she told him gently, still not looking at him, ‘but you’ve been around for nine hundred years. Your entire life couldn’t have been so bad that you don’t have a few happy memories?’

She did look up then, her head tilted at him in a tentative way. Like she clearly expected her words to further hurt him, but felt it was important to say them anyhow.

The heavy feeling in his hearts lightened just a little at her obvious worry over him. Daft human.

‘I’m not a kind or happy man, Rose,’ he told her quietly. ‘I told you: all that matters is right now. You don’t need to know what’s happened in the past.’

‘You’re right, I don’t,’ she agreed. ‘I came with you because of who you are now, not who you were before.’ Before he could decide exactly what he felt about that startling pronouncement, she went on, ‘But the Time War doesn’t make up your whole life. I’m sure even before I met you, you’ve been happy at least once or twice. That’s what I want to hear about. Stories and good times and daft things you’ve done. Like that brothel thing you told me about once’ She squeezed his hand. ‘But I…I’m also here to listen to the painful things, if you need me to. I’m not going to push you, but I want you to know you can tell me anything.’

There was something shapeless and painful caught in his throat, his mind rebelling at the preposterousness and presumption of what she suggested, even as his hearts swelled with gratitude.

He didn’t know what to say to that.

Well, he knew what he _should_ say, based on hundreds of years of rules and regulations concerning responses to over-emotional human declarations like hers.

But he couldn’t seem to manage it.

Luckily, she saved him once again as he struggled with the correct response, this time pointing straight in front of them. ‘Is that where’s we’re supposed to be going?’

He glanced up and nodded. ‘Yep.’

Although the palace was still obviously under construction, he could see the bones of the place foreshadow its future grandeur.

A monumental gateway heralded their arrival to the palace, which was the cleanest looking building they had seen yet. It appeared to be made of new marble, which contrasted with the onyx and agate walkways.

He and Rose meandered through a large column-lined peristyle and through corridors that were in the process of being decorated with colourful paints and mosaics. The enclosed gardens were being tended to by dozens of gardeners and landscapers. From his vantage point he could see the second storey of the palace which was covered with roof tiles.

The Doctor and Rose made their way through several polished ebony doorways unbothered, admiring the work of the builders as they did so. Eventually they came to one of the main chambers where in the distance, half a dozen men were crowded around a table lined with parchment.

Even from here, they could make out one figure in particular, and he heard Rose murmur, ‘Well, _he’s_ a bit of all right! Even if he doesn’t look anything like Colin Farrell.’

The King of Macedon looked just as the Doctor remembered him. He was in his early twenties and of average height. A bit stocky and rough looking, really, with thick, wavy dark blond hair and muscular, sun-bronzed skin. He had a day or so worth of stubble on his otherwise beardless face, high cheekbones and a straight nose.

The Doctor snorted, remarking disparagingly, ‘You would be one to like the pretty ones...’

Rose may have shot him a confused look, but he was already striding forward importantly and without a care. Within seconds, there was movement from somewhere to their right.

‘You there! What are you doing here?’ a bearded man in a knee-length tunic and a cloak was stalking over to them, one hand raised as though he was preparing to call the guards. ‘Who are you?’

Flash went the psychic paper, and the Doctor was already answering smoothly, ‘Ioannes of Tardis. Expert in the local geography, sent to help the King and honourable Dinocrates with the planning. And this is Rose, my protégé.’

The bearded man’s eyes fell on her. ‘A woman?’

‘My very own Axiotheia of Phlius,’ the Doctor answered. ‘Won her in a card game on Albion, turned out she was better at assisting me in my travels than scrubbing floors. Who knew?’

‘Indeed,’ the man said, looking Rose over again; there was less contempt there, but not by a great margin.

Rose opened her mouth to object to that, but the Doctor had her hand in his behind their backs and squeezed it quickly in warning. She adopted a clearly forced a smile and nodded.

She was letting it go, for now.

‘And who do we have the pleasure of addressing? the Doctor prompted.

‘Cleonmenes of Naucratis,’ was the answer. ‘And I should warn you now, you’re probably wasting your time. Geography or not, the _basileus_ will have his way in things. Not that that it matters in the long run whether he completes his plans or not. Likely he won’t even be here to see the city completed.’

‘Why not?’ Rose asked.

‘For all his great plans, the King has…a bit of a short attention span.’

‘Ah, he just doesn’t like to be kept in one spot for long,’ the Doctor remarked. ‘Nothing wrong there.’

‘Yeah, we know what that’s like, don’t we?’ Rose grinned.

‘He’s already talking about marching into Phoenicia and Mesopotamia,’ Cleonmenes went on.

‘Oh, well, best meet with him right away then,’ the Doctor said with a grin.

Cleonmenes shrugged. ‘If you insist.’

He motioned for them to follow him.

As soon as he had turned away, Rose dug her elbow into the Doctor’s chest.

‘Ow!’ he grunted, rubbing the spot as though she had actually hurt him.

‘“Won me in a card game”?’ she prompted.

‘Only way to explain your presence here, women aren’t exactly high class at the moment – foreign women even less,’ the Doctor explained. ‘Unless you wanted to spend your time here shut up in a room waiting for me to get home from adventuring?’

‘No, ta,’ Rose grimaced. ‘A little warning next time, though? And what was that other stuff? What’s Al-bye-on? And Axio…thing.’

‘Albion’s what this lot call Britain, and Axiotheia was once of Plato’s only female students. Didn’t much care for what society expected her to do, so she went off and did her own thing,’ he answered, cutting a warm look at her. ‘Sound familiar?’

‘Maybe we should try to visit her next, if you ever get your coordinates right,’ she replied brazenly as they approached the planning table.

‘Your Highness, the expert in local geography has arrived – a Ioannes of Tardis,’ Cleonmenes intoned.

‘I don’t recall sending for anyone,’ came the harsh answer, and then the man himself had stepped forward to peer at the Doctor and Rose. His eyes were mismatched – one dark, the other clear blue – but both conveyed cool assessment there.

‘Are you sure?’ the Doctor challenged. ‘Because here’s my summoning, right here. Got your seal, and everything.’

Alexander considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘I supposed I must have. I have been busy enough not to remember – though, it’s far likelier one of my well-meaning but meddling retainers are simply trying to sway me from my decisions.’

He shot the men in question a dirty look.

‘Nah, why would they?’ the Doctor asked. ‘I’m sure you’re doing a bang up job and just want to get everything perfect. Dotting ‘i’s, crossing “t”s and the like.’

‘Quite,’ Alexander mused, considering the Doctor for a moment before turning attention to Rose. He raised his eyebrows, and the calculating expression was replaced with one the Doctor had seen that idiot boyfriend of hers give her. ‘And who is this?’

‘He says it’s his protégé,’ Cleonmenes spoke up, still sounding doubtful.

‘Yep, protégé and heir,’ the Doctor added. ‘Comes with me everywhere. Wouldn’t be able to find my _dioptra_ in the morning without her.’

‘Ah, then her intelligence must rival her beauty,’ Alexander declared, a slow smile overtaking his features.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and strolled over to examine the plans the King had been examining before. Humans – no sense of timing, honestly.

Rose let out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a snort. ‘Does that line ever work?’

‘Usually,’ Alexander admitted, and when the Doctor snuck a glance he noticed that there was an expression of appreciation on his face at Rose’s response. It morphed into a roguish grin that made the hairs on the back of the Doctor’s neck bristle for some reason. ‘And if it doesn’t, casually mentioning, ‘oh, by the way, I also happen to be King of Macedon and Pharaoh of All Egypt’, does the job.’

The Doctor scowled and forced his attention back to the roughly drawn schematics; he shook his head at just how much of a disorganised mess it was. It looked absolutely nothing like what the city of Alexandria was supposed to look like, and he put that down the Alexander’s natural impatience.

‘Can’t say I’ve heard that one too many times before,’ Rose admitted, letting him take her hand a press a kiss to the back of her wrist.

The Doctor cleared his throat impatiently. ‘If you’re done seducing my protégé, would you mind explaining what idiot brand of logic made you think planning a library in the city centre was a good idea?’

Alexander’s eyes snapped up and he glared at the Doctor. ‘What?’

‘Oh, by all means, park it right in the middle of the areas with the highest crime rates,’ the Doctor went on, frowning down at the pages of parchment that obviously outlined plans for the city. ‘Just be ready to accept the blame when priceless scrolls and other artefacts start going missing.’

‘You cannot speak to the _basileus_ in such a way!’ one of the men at the table protested. He was tall and swarthy, with a sleek black beard. ‘I would cut out your tongue, if he would allow it.’

‘Oh, shut up, Demetrios,’ another man said. He was younger than the rest, probably around Rose’s age, and unlike everyone else there, completely beardless. He also looked vaguely familiar to the Doctor, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. ‘As if you weren’t telling him the same thing a moment ago…just with more genuflecting and pandering.’

Demetrios’s skin flushed and he glowered at the younger man. ‘You insult me, Hephaestion son of Amyntor?’

But he didn’t get an answer, because Alexander had interrupted, snapping at the Doctor, ‘I want this city to be a jewel of beauty as well as knowledge!’ He stalked purposefully back to the planning table. ‘Even the basest pauper should be able to enjoy enlightenment here.’

‘Oh, he’ll enjoy it, all right – once he’s made a few drachma selling it to some foreign trader who’ll use it for toilet paper. Trust me, you’ll want to build the library closer to the palace area. Seems a bit elitist, yeah, but at least it’ll protect things. Also, you might want to invest in some kind of fire safety system as well…’

After that, it quickly devolved into a kind of bantering squabble. The Doctor felt his awareness of the rest of the room melt away as, with great relish and more satisfaction than he could justify, he picked apart Alexander’s city plans.

He was dimly aware of Rose fidgeting nearby, but every time he went to ask her opinions, Alexander said something particularly boneheaded and he found himself distracted.

It was only when Hephaestion suddenly spoke up that the Doctor noticed the utterly bored expression on Rose’s face.

‘If you’ll excuse me, Alexander, I think I’ll head off,’ Hephaestion was saying, interrupting the lively argument about the proper placement of the potential sewage system. ‘I know my limits if you do not. Besides, I’ve no interested in city planning.’

Alexander glanced up, a wry smile on his face. ‘Well, such things are the matters of princes, not consorts.’

‘Because the number and location of toilets in the city is such a princely pastime,’ Hephaestion replied with a straight face, which made Rose chuckle. It seemed Hephaestion was one of those people that refused to take his lover too seriously even if he was the King. ‘Perhaps I can put myself to better use and show the lady around the fairer parts of this city.’

The Doctor’s head snapped from the young man to Rose at the invitation. It was on his lips to protest, except Rose’s laughter had stopped and she was now beaming at Hephaestion. ‘That sounds brilliant, actually. I’m not one for maps and stuff myself.’

She shot him a brief, somewhat expectant glance and the Doctor straightened up.

He didn’t really like the idea. Alexandria wasn’t a hotbed of safety in any time period, and Hephaestion was another pretty one…

Not that that mattered to him in the least, the Doctor reminded himself. He wasn’t her father or her boyfriend or any other domestic-induced title that suggested he had any say in what she did and with whom.

Still, a warning was necessary.

‘Sure that’s wise, Rose? Dangerous city – and I promised your mum I’d look out for you,’ he said lightly, though with careful effort he kept from outright refusing. She’d made clear how she felt about him taking choices away from her.

She granted him a warm smile. ‘Piece of cake next to what we’ve been through. Not like I’m going to be alone, yeah?’

His eyebrows drew into a frown as they fell on Hephaestion. The lad actually took a bit of a step back, before clearing his throat and declaring earnestly, ‘I swear, my lord Ioannes, I will protect Rose as though she were my own _epikleros_.’

‘’Fraid that wouldn’t do,’ the Doctor said quietly. ‘I’d accept nothing less than the same protection you would offer your own _kleronomos_.’

The men in the room appeared surprised at this, but Hephaestion simply bowed his head to the Doctor and said, ‘I understand. It will be as you say.’

The Doctor beamed at Rose then. ‘Well, there you are. Off you go – and mind, Rose, remember rule number one!’

‘Yeah, and you try not to talk your way into a beheading or something, yeah?’ she shot back.

‘Oh ye of little faith.’

‘Faith’s got nothing to do with it, I know you,’ she pointed out as she allowed Hephaestion to show her towards one of the tall doorways. ‘Try not to miss me.’

‘Never,’ he answered, turning back to the schematic-covered table. He pretended to be completely focussed on his work, even as his keen hearing followed the sound of Rose and Hephaestion chatting until they were too far to hear.

He told himself it didn’t bother him how quickly she had gone off with the young man – because it didn’t. Just because he wasn’t the one showing her around Alexandria like he had planned didn’t mean he begrudged her going. It was better for her to get out and meet people. When he asked her to come with him it hadn’t been so that he could be her _chaperone_. It had been so she could go out and experience all of time and space for herself.

Safely.

Well, more or less safely.

Anyway.

He had more important things to do right now. Like save one of the greatest cities in the ancient world from being hobbled by the amateur design aspirations of a bored ruler.

‘Well, you’ve made a decent start to planning exactly where and how many temples you want. But the rest is rubbish,’ he told the King bluntly, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the other advisors. ‘Complete and utter – oh, no wait, I like where you’ve got the market set up – but other than that, rubbish.’

Alexander frowned at him, but didn’t seem as offended as his followers. ‘Explain.’

‘Well it looks like you played a game of Spellicans to figure out where to build the streets, doesn’t it?’ the Doctor pointed out. ‘It’s as unorganised as any other city right now, and I thought you wanted this place to stand out?’

‘What does this have to do with the local geography?’ Demetrios wanted to know, but the man the Doctor recognised as Dinocrates, Alexander’s chief architect, spoke above him.

“I, too, have been concerned with the placement of the streets, You Majesty,’ he said to Alexander. ‘If you recall, I showed you a potential solution…?’

He held out a papyrus with a large diagram to the King, angled so that the Doctor could see it. A plan much closer to what the Doctor knew of the city had been etched there in ink.

‘Fantastic! Grid system,’ the Doctor declared. ‘That’d solve the problem.’

‘It has been used in the Far East for many years,’ Dinocrates explained to Alexander. ‘To some success, as I understand it.’

‘And when you get to Babylon, you’ll see remnants of it from Hammurabi’s day, and that was over a millennium ago,’ the Doctor pointed out.

Alexander’s eyes lit up at that. Everyone knew that he had aspirations not only to march into the ancient lands of Mesopotamia, but to span an empire that lasted thousands of years.

‘Such an organisation could have its merits,’ he allowed magnanimously. ‘Perhaps it would discourage the situation in the lower cities as well, if there were fewer twisting streets to hide in.’

‘Why, what’s going on in the lower cities?’ the Doctor asked.

‘Nothing a newcomer should be concerning himself with,’ Demetrios said with a scowl.

‘It is if that newcomer just sent his best mate off with someone she doesn’t know and who might just decide, “oh, it’d be a laugh to check out the lower cities”,’ the Doctor retorted.

‘Your worry is misplaced, Ioannes,’ Demetrios said dismissively. ‘Even if something were to happen to the woman, what should that mean to you? She is just a slave.’

The Doctor fixed the Macedonian general with a cool stare.

‘She is far more than that,’ he replied quietly.

‘Hephaestion would never be so careless,’ Alexander assured him.

‘Either way, what’s going on? Always one for a mystery, me,’ the Doctor said in a would-be cheerful voice that fooled no one.

‘It is a mystery at that,’ Cleonmenes admitted. ‘And not just in the lower cities, I’ve heard.’

‘Wall carvings and statues of the Egyptian gods are being defaced,’ Alexander explained before the Doctor could ask another impatient question. ‘Not just any god, but Horus.’

‘God of vengeance, protection and war,’ the Doctor mused. ‘Not exactly a god you want to brass off by scribblin’ on his wall paintings. Bit of a temper…well, unless you’re part of the Holy Order of Oras.’

‘I’ve never heard of such an order before,’ Cleonmenes frowned.

‘Well, you’re not an Ice Warrior, so you wouldn’t have,’ the Doctor replied. Before he could be questions on that, he addressed Alexander, ‘And why exactly do you care about a bit of vandalism? It’s a bit early for community outreach programs to be gaining much ground, especially in this part of the world.’ He paused as it occurred to him. ‘Oh, wait, I remember – _Horus, the strong ruler, he who seizes the lands of the foreigners, beloved of Amun and the chosen one of Ra – Alexandros_. You’re the earthly embodiment of Horus.’

Alexander nodded. ‘That is how the priests and oracles of this land have hailed me.’

‘Them and your excellent PR-people,’ the Doctor quipped. ‘So by defacing statues of Horus, you think someone might be trying to send you a message.’

‘One which His Majesty need not debase himself to by acknowledging,’ Demetrios spoke up. ‘There are more important matters to consider than a few malcontents that cannot see how much better he will make the city.’

The other men made quiet noises of agreement, though the Doctor noticed none of them actually spoke up in support of Demetrios.

‘It is exactly for that reason that I must acknowledge it,’ Alexander maintained firmly. ‘The people of this city – especially in the area where the vandalism is happening – consider it blasphemy. All of you believe that it doesn’t matter what’s happening because it isn’t our gods being disrespected. But if these people are going to look to me as their ruler in more than name and the fact I conquered them, they need to know I will protect their customs and beliefs.’

‘Good plan,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m all for that way of thinking myself, but I agree with this lot. It’s probably just a bunch of teenagers trying to be clever and rebellious. Just take it as constructive criticism and move on. No one likes an overlord, and it’s probably the closest these people have to free speech.’

Alexander raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve never been burdened with ruling a kingdom, have you, Ioannes?’

‘Once or twice, but it didn’t take.’

‘Then clearly you have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Demetrios interrupted. ‘His Majesty would not be so worried, except that in recent weeks a fever plague has begun circulating in the lower districts.’

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘That a fact? Well, that’s a lot more interesting than rubbish city plans, at any rate. Tell me more.’

Perhaps this was why the TARDIS had ended up so far off course.

‘You have chosen the right man to ask,’ Alexander said. ‘Demetrios almost captured the cur causing the problems. He is the only man I’ve sent to investigate who has returned.’

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘What happened to the others?’

‘Ran off, I expect,’ Demetrios snorted with contempt. ‘They were conscripts from the local area. They see him only as a conqueror, and we have not yet…ensured their loyalty. They took his coin and bolted.’

‘Your opinion is noted,’ Alexander said. ‘And even if it’s likely, I still need to know the truth. If I am to build a city, I need to rid it of those who would tear it down as I build.’

‘Not only that, but if you’ve got a fever plague in the lower city, you’re gonna want to control population movement and institute a quarantine,’ the Doctor maintained. He clapped his hands together. ‘Well, nothing for it. I need to take a look about the areas where the vandalism’s happening.’

‘What does that have to do with the local geography?’ Cleonmenes blustered.

‘Are you joking?’ the Doctor asked, already heading for the door. ‘Population’s a huge part of geography. You try knockin’ down a wall or a tree if a bunch of people decide to form a human chain about it. Honestly, haven’t you lot ever heard of surveying?’

To his surprise, Alexander agreed with him.

‘Perhaps this will solve two problems at once,’ he declared. ‘Demetrios, you go with Ioannes. Bring him the location of the latest desecrated wall. Tell him everything you remember of your encounter, and anything else that might help. I want to make sure once and for all that nothing underhanded is happening in my city.’

 


End file.
